Perci Jackson and the Olympians: The Battle of the Labyrinth
by BAhorses0805
Summary: All seems normal at Camp Half-Blood, until Perci Jackson learns Luke is planning to invade the camp with Daedalus's Labyrinth. It's up to the daughter of Poseidon and her friends to uncover Kronos's sinister plan and stop his army from trying to destroying the camp again. Along the way, she must find the son of Hades, Nico di Angelo, and find a mortal friend vital to the quest.
1. I Battle the Cheerleading Squad

**Chapter 1**

I Battle the Cheerleading Squad

The last thing I wanted to do on my summer break was blow up another school. But there I was Monday morning, the first week of June, sitting in my mom's car in front of Goode High School on East 81st.

Goode was this big brownstone building overlooking the East River. A bunch of BMWs and Lincoln Town Cars were parked out front. Staring up at the fancy stone archway, I wondered how long it would take me to get kicked out of this place.

"Just relax." My mom didn't sound relaxed. "It's only an orientation tour. And remember, dear, this is Paul's school. So try not to...you know."

"Destroy it?"

"Yes."

Paul Blofis, my mom's boyfriend, was standing out front, greeting future ninth graders as they came up the steps. With his salt-and-pepper hair, denim clothes, and leather jacket, he reminded me of a TV actor, but he was just an English teacher. He'd managed to convince Goode High School to accept me for ninth grade, despite the fact that I'd gotten kicked out of every school I'd ever attended. I'd tried to warn him it wasn't a good idea, but he wouldn't listen.

I looked at my mom. "You haven't told him the truth about me, have you?"

She tapped her fingers nervously on the wheel. She was dressed up for a job interview—her best blue dress and high-heeled shoes.

"I thought we should wait," she admitted.

"So we don't scare him away."

"I'm sure orientation will be fine, Perci. It's only one morning."

"Great," I mumbled. "I can get expelled before I even start the school year."

"Think positive. Tomorrow you're off to camp! After orientation, you've got your date—"

"It's not a date!" I protested. "It's just Anthony, Mom. Jeez!"

"He's coming all the way from camp to meet you."

"Well, yeah."

"You're going to the movies."

"Yeah."

"Just the two of you."

"Mom!"

She held her hands in surrender, but I could tell she was trying hard not to smile. "You'd better get inside, dear. I'll see you tonight."

I was about to get out of the car when I looked over at the steps of the school. Paul Blofis was greeting a girl with frizzy red hair. She wore a maroon T-shirt and ratty jeans decorated with marker drawings. When she turned, I caught a glimpse of her face, and the hairs on my arms stood straight up.

"Perci?" my mom asked. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," I stammered. "Does the school have a side entrance?"

"Down the block on the right. Why?"

"I'll see you later."

My mom started to say something, but I got out of the car and ran, hoping the redheaded girl wouldn't see me.

What was _she_ doing here? Not even _my_ luck could be this bad.

Yeah, right. I was about to find out my luck could get a whole lot worse.

* * *

Sneaking into orientation didn't work out too well. Two cheerleaders in purple-and-white uniforms were standing at the side entrance, waiting to ambush freshmen.

"Hi!" They smiled, which I figured was the first and last time any cheerleaders would be that friendly to me. Trust me, I never liked cheerleaders, let alone becoming one. One was blonde with icy blue eyes. The other was African American with dark curly hair like Medusa's (and believe me, I know what I'm talking about). Both girls had their names stitched in cursive on their uniforms, but with my dyslexia, the words looked like meaningless spaghetti.

"Welcome to Goode," the blonde girl said. "You are _so_ going to love it."

But as she looked me up and down, her expression said something more like, _Eww, who is this outcast?_

The other girl stepped uncomfortably close to me. I studied the stitching on her uniform and made out _Kelli_. She smelled like roses and something else I recognized from riding lessons at camp—the scent of freshly washed horses. It was a weird smell for a cheerleader. Maybe she owned a horse or something. Anyway, she stood so close I got the feeling she was going to try to push me down the steps. "What's your name, fish?"

"Fish?"

"Freshman."

"Uh, Perci."

The girls exchanged looks.

"Oh, Perci Jackson," the blonde one said. "We've been waiting for you."

That sent a major _Uh-oh_ chill down my back. They were blocking the entrance, smiling in a not-very-friendly way. My hand crept instinctively toward my pocket, where I kept my lethal ballpoint pen, Riptide.

Then another voice came from inside the building. "Perci?" It was Paul Blofis, somewhere down the hallway. I'd never been so glad to hear his voice.

The cheerleaders backed off. I was so anxious to get past them I accidentally kneed Kelli in the thigh.

 _Clang_.

Her leg made a hollow, metallic sound, like I'd just hit a flagpole.

"Ow," she muttered. "Watch it, _fish_."

I glanced down, but her leg looked like a regular old leg. I was too freaked out to ask questions. I dashed into the hall, the cheerleaders laughing behind me.

"There you are!" Paul told me. "Welcome to Goode!"

"Hey, Paul—uh, Mr. Blofis." I glanced back, but the weird cheerleaders had disappeared.

"Perci, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"Yeah, uh—"

Paul clapped me on my shoulder. "Listen, I know you're nervous, but don't worry. We get a lot of kids here with ADHD and dyslexia. The teachers know how to help."

I almost wanted to laugh. If only ADHD and dyslexia were my biggest worries. I mean, I knew Paul was trying to help, but if I told him the truth about me, he's rather think I was crazy or he'd run away screaming. Those cheerleaders, for instance. I had a bad feeling about them…

Then I looked down the hall, and I remembered I had another problem. The redheaded girl I'd seen on the front steps was just coming in the main entrance.

 _Don't notice me_ , I prayed.

She noticed me. Her eyes widened.

"Where's the orientation?" I asked Paul.

"The gym. That way. But—"

"Bye."

"Perci?" he called, but I was already running.

* * *

I thought I'd lost her.

A bunch of kids were heading for the gym, and soon I was just one of the three hundred fourteen-year-olds all crammed into the bleachers. A marching band played an out-of-tune fight song that sounded like somebody hitting a bag of cats with a metal baseball bat. Older kids, probably student council members, stood up front modeling the Goode school uniform and looking all, _Hey, we're cool_. Teachers milled around, smiling and shaking hands with students. The walls of the gym were plastered with big purple-and-white banners that said WELCOME FUTURE FRESHMEN, GOODE IS GOOD, WE'RE ALL FAMILY, and a bunch of other happy slogans that pretty much made me want to throw up.

None of the other freshmen looked thrilled to be here, either. I mean, coming to orientation in June, when school doesn't even start until September, is not cool. But at Goode, "We prepare to excel early!" At least that's what the brochure said.

The marching band stopped playing. A guy in a pinstripe suit came to the microphone and started talking, but the sound echoed around the gym so I had no idea what he was saying. He might've been gargling.

Someone grabbed my shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

It was her: my redheaded nightmare.

"Rachel Elizabeth Dare," I said.

Her jaw dropped like she couldn't believe I had the nerve to remember her name. "And you're Perci somebody. I didn't get your full name last December when you tried to _kill_ me."

"Look, I wasn't—I didn't—What are _you_ doing here?"

"Same as you, I guess. Orientation."

"You live in New York?"

"What, you thought I lived at Hoover Dam?"

It had never occurred to me. Whenever I remember her, I always figured she lived in the Hoover Dam area, since that's where I'd met her. We'd spent maybe ten minutes together, during which time I'd accidentally swung a sword at her, she'd saved my life, and I'd run away chased by a band of supernatural killing machines. You know, your typical chance meeting.

Some guy behind us whispered, "Hey, shut up, ladies. The cheerleaders are talking!"

"Hi, guys!" a girl bubbled into the microphone. It was the blonde I'd seen at the entrance. "My name is Tammi, and this is, like, Kelli." Kelli did a cartwheel.

Next to me, Rachel yelped like someone had stuck her with a pin. A few kids looked over and snickered, but Rachel just stared at the cheerleaders in horror. Tammi didn't seem to notice the outburst. She started talking about all the great ways we could get involved during our freshman year.

"Run," Rachel told me. "Now."

"Why?"

Rachel didn't explain. She pushed her way to the edge of the bleachers, ignoring the frowning teachers and grumbling kids she was stepping on.

I hesitated. Tammi was explaining how we were about to break into small groups and tour the school. Kelli caught my eye and gave me an amused smile, like she was waiting to see what I'd do. It would look bad if I left right now. Paul Blofis was down there with the rest of the teachers. He'd wonder what was wrong.

Then I thought about Rachel Elizabeth Dare, and the special ability she'd shown last winter at Hoover Dam. She'd been able to see a group of security guards who weren't guards at all, who weren't even human. My heart pounding, I got up and followed her out of the gym.

* * *

I found Rachel in the band room. She was hiding behind a bass drum in the percussion section.

"Get over here!" she said. "Keep your head down!"

I felt pretty silly hiding behind a bunch of bongos, but I crouched beside her.

"Did they follow you?" Rachel asked.

"You mean the cheerleaders?"

She nodded nervously.

"I don't think so," I said. "What are they? What did you see?"

Her green eyes were bright with fear. She had a sprinkle of freckles on her face that reminded me of constellations. Her maroon T-shirt read HARVARD ART DEPT. "You...you wouldn't believe me."

"Oh, yeah, I would," I promised. "I know you can see through the Mist."

"The what?"

"The Mist. It's...well, it's like this veil that hides the way things really are. Some mortals are born with the ability to see through it. Like you."

She studied me carefully. "You did that at Hoover Dam. You called me a mortal. Like you're not."

I felt like punching a bongo. What was I thinking? I could never explain. I shouldn't even try.

"Tell me," she begged. "You know what it means. All these horrible things I see?"

"Look, this is going to sound weird. Do you know anything about Greek myths?"

"Like...the Minotaur and the Hydra?"

"Yeah, just try not to say those names when I'm around, okay?"

"And the Furies," she said, warming up. "And the Sirens, and—"

"Okay!" I looked around the band hall, sure that Rachel was going to make a bunch of bloodthirsty nasties pop out of the walls; but we were still alone. Down the hallway, I heard a mob of kids coming out of the gymnasium. They were starting the group tours. We didn't have long to talk.

"All those monsters," I said, "all the Greek gods—they're real."

"I knew it!"

I would've been more comfortable if she'd called me a liar, but Rachel looked like I'd just confirmed her worst suspicion.

"You don't know how hard it's been," she said. "For years I thought I was going crazy. I couldn't tell anybody. I couldn't—" Her eyes narrowed. "Wait. Who are you? I mean _really_?"

"I'm not a monster."

"Well, I know that. I could _see_ if you were. You look like...you. But you're not human, are you?"

I swallowed. Even though I'd had three years to get used to who I was, I'd never talked about it with a regular mortal before—I mean, except for my mom, but she already knew. I don't know why, but I took the plunge.

"I'm a half-blood," I said. "I'm half human."

"And half what?"

Just then Tammi and Kelli stepped into the band room. The doors slammed shut behind them.

"There you are, Perci Jackson," Tammi said. "It's time for your orientation."

* * *

"They're horrible!" Rachel gasped.

Tammi and Kelli were still wearing their purple-and-white cheerleader costumes, holding pom-poms from the rally.

"What do they really look like?" I asked, but Rachel seemed too stunned to answer.

"Oh, forget her." Tammi advanced towards us with a brilliant smile. Kelli stayed by the doors, blocking our exit.

They'd trapped us. I knew we had to fight our way out. I rose from my hiding spot and stood my ground.

"Perci," Rachel warned.

"Pssh, don't worry I've handle things like this before." I said like it was no big deal.

I got my pen out of my pocket and uncapped it. Riptide grew into a three-foot-long bronze sword, its blade glowing with a faint golden light. Tammi's smile turned to a sneer.

"Oh, come on," she protested. "You could join the squad. We could use someone like you with this much confidence."

"Sorry, but I don't do cheerleaders. And you two, are one of the main reasons why." I said.

Tammi sneered again before she looked back at Kelli. "May I, mistress?"

Kelli was still blocking the door, licking her lips hungrily. "Go ahead, Tammi. You're doing fine."

Tammi took another step forward, but I leveled the tip of my sword at her chest. "One more step, you'll hear from your leader."

She snarled. "Freshmen," she said with disgust. "This is _our_ school, half-blood. We feed on whom we choose!"

Then she began to change. The color drained out of her face and arms. Her skin turned as white as chalk, her eyes completely red. Her teeth grew into fangs.

"A vampire!" I stammered. Then I noticed her legs. Below the cheerleader skirt, her left leg was brown and shaggy with a donkey's hoof. Her right leg was shaped like a human leg, but it was made of bronze. "Uhh, a vampire with—"

"Don't mention the legs!" Tammi snapped. "It's rude to make fun!"

She advanced on her weird, mismatched legs. She looked totally bizarre, especially with the pom-poms, but I couldn't laugh—not facing those red eyes and sharp fangs.

"A vampire, you say?" Kelli laughed. "That silly legend was based on _us_ , you fool. We are _empousai_ , servants of Hecate."

"Mmmm," Tammi edged closer to me. "Dark magic formed us from animal, bronze, and ghost! We exist to feed on the blood of young men. But the blood of a daughter of the sea god, _that_ I can't resist."

She bared her fangs. I was so paralyzed I couldn't move, but Rachel threw a snare drum at the _empousa_ 's head.

The demon hissed and batted the drum away. It went rolling along the aisles between music stands, its spring rattling against the drumhead. Rachel threw a xylophone, but the demon just swatted that away, too.

"I don't usually kill girls," Tammi growled. "But for you, mortal, I'll make an exception. Your eyesight is a little _too_ good!"

She lunged at Rachel.

"No!" I slashed with Riptide. Tammi tried to dodge my blade, but I sliced straight through her cheerleader uniform, and with a horrible wail she exploded into dust all over Rachel.

Rachel coughed. She looked like she'd just had a sack of flour dumped on her head. "Gross!"

"Monsters do that," I said. "Sorry."

"You killed my trainee!" Kelli yelled. "You need a lesson in school spirit, half-blood!"

Then she too began to change. Her wiry hair turned to flickering flames. Her eyes turned red. She grew fangs. She loped towards us, her brass foot and hoof clopping unevenly on the band-room floor.

"I am senior _empousa_ ," she growled. "No hero has bested me in a thousand years."

"Yeah?" I said. "Then you're overdue!"

Kelli was a lot faster than Tammi. She dodged my first strike and rolled into the brass section, knocking over a row of trombones with a mighty crash. Rachel scrambled out of the way. I put myself between her and the _empousa_. Kelli circled us, her eyes going from me to the sword.

"Such a pretty little blade," she said. "What a shame it stands between us."

Her form shimmered—sometimes a demon, sometimes a cheerleader. I still kept my sword out and tried to defend Rachel.

"Poor dear." Kelli chuckled. "You don't even know what's happening, do you? Soon, your pretty little camp in flames, your friends made slaves to the Lord of Time, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. It would be merciful to end your life now, before you have to see that."

From down the hall, I heard voices. A tour group was approaching. A man was saying something about locker combinations.

The _empousa_ 's eyes lit up. "Excellent! We're about to have company!"

She picked up a tuba and threw it at me. Rachel and I ducked. The tuba sailed over our heads and crashed through the window.

The voices in the hall died down.

"Perci!" Kelli shouted, pretending to be scared, "why did you throw that?"

"I didn't throw that, you witch!" I shouted.

Kelli picked up a music stand and swiped a row of clarinets and flutes. Chairs and musical instruments crashed to the floor.

"Cut it out, Kelli!" I demanded.

People were tromping down the hall now, coming in our direction.

"Time to greet our visitors!" Kelli bared her fangs and ran for the doors. I charged after her with Riptide. I had to stop her from hurting the mortals.

"Perci, don't!" Rachel shouted, and I quickly halted my assault.

Kelli flung open the doors. Paul Blofis and a bunch of freshmen stepped back in shock. I quickly threw my sword at the _empousa_.

At the last second, the _empousa_ turned toward me like a cowering victim. "Oh no, please!" she cried. The blade was already in motion.

Just before the celestial bronze hit her, Kelli exploded into flames like a Molotov cocktail. Waves of fire splashed over everything. I'd never seen a monster do that before, but I didn't have time to wonder about it. I backed into the band room as flames engulfed the doorway.

"Perci?" Paul Blofis looked completely stunned, staring at me from across the fire.

Kids screamed and ran down the hall. The fire alarm wailed. Ceiling sprinklers hissed to life.

In the chaos, Rachel tugged on my sleeve. "You have to get out of here!"

She was right. The school was in flames and I'd be held responsible. Mortals couldn't see through the Mist properly. To them it would look like I'd just attacked a helpless cheerleader in front of a group of witnesses. There was no way I could explain it. I turned from Paul and sprinted for the broken band room window.

* * *

I burst out of the alley into East 81st and ran straight into Anthony.

"Hey, you're out early!" He laughed, grabbing my shoulders to keep me from tumbling into the street. "Watch where you're going, Seaweed Brain."

For a split second he was in a good mood and everything was fine. He was wearing jeans and an orange camp T-shirt and his clay bead necklace. His blonde hair combed over his forehead. His gray eyes sparkled. He looked like he was ready to catch a movie, have a cool afternoon hanging out together.

"Anthony, as much as I would _love_ to catch the movies and pretend that nothing has happened, we have a big problem." I said, deadly serious. That melted his smile.

"What happened? What did you do this time?" He asked in concern.

Just then, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, still covered in monster dust, came charging out of the alley, yelling, "Perci, wait up!" She then froze when she saw Anthony.

Anthony stared at her. "Uh...Perci, who is this?"

"Oh, Rachel—Anthony. Anthony—Rachel. Um, she's a...girl I briefly met one time and has...helped me before. I guess." I said.

I barely knew Rachel, but after being in two life-or-death situations together, I couldn't just call her nobody.

"Hi." Rachel, blushing a little. Then she turned to me. "You are in _so_ much trouble. And you still owe me an explanation!"

Police sirens wailed on FDR Drive.

"Don't worry, later on. Anthony, we should go." I said. I wasn't really liking how much Anthony was staring at Rachel.

"I want to know more about half-bloods," Rachel insisted. "And monsters. And this stuff about the gods." She grabbed my arm, whipped out a permanent marker, and wrote a phone number on my hand. "You're going to call me and explain, okay? You owe me that. Now get going."

"But—"

"I'll make up some story," Rachel said. "I'll tell them it wasn't your fault. Just go!"

She ran back toward the school, leaving me and Anthony in the street.

I turned to Anthony, who was still hypnotized by Rachel's sudden appearance. I couldn't help but feeling if he was actually starting to….I turned and took off.

"Hey!" Anthony jogged after me.

"Listen to me, there were these two _empousa_ ," I explained, trying not to sound to cold. "They were cheerleaders, and they said camp was going to burn, and—"

"How does the mortal girl know about half-bloods?" Anthony asked me, suddenly interested in Rachel.

"See can see through the Mist. She saw the monsters before I did."

"So...you just told her the truth?"

"She sort of recognized me from Hoover Dam, so—"

"You've met her before?"

I had heard enough of him sounding like an idiot, which was mostly my job. "Last winter, yes!" It came out harsher than I thought. "But I barely even know her. She saved my life twice already, so I guess she could be a friend."

"She's kind of cute."

I tried to ignore the fact that he just said that like I'm not. "Wow, Owlhead, I never thought about that." I kept walking toward York Avenue. "I'll deal with the school later, and I guess our afternoon is off."

"Yeah, we should get out of here, now that the police will be searching for you." He finally just said something smart.

Behind us, smoke billowed up from Goode High School. In the dark column of ashes, I thought I could almost see a face—a she-demon with red eyes, laughing at me.

 _Your pretty little camp in flames_ , Kelli had said. _Your friends made slaves to the Lord of Time_.

"You're right," I told Anthony, my heart sinking. "We have to get to Camp Half-Blood. _Now_."


	2. The Underworld Sends Me a Prank Call

**Chapter 2**

The Underworld Sends Me a Prank Call

Nothing caps off the perfect morning like a long taxi ride with a mentally lost boy.

He tried to talk to me, but I kept on acting like he'd just punched my grandmother. He told me that he'd had a monster-infested spring in San Francisco; he'd come back to camp twice since Christmas but wouldn't tell me why (which ticked me off even more, because he hadn't even told me he was in New York); and he'd learned nothing about the whereabouts of Nico di Angelo (long story).

"Any word on Luke?" I asked, finally looking at him.

He shook his head. I knew it was a touchy subject for him. Anthony had always admired Luke, the former head counselor for Hermes who had betrayed us and joined the evil Titan Lord Kronos. He wouldn't admit it, but I knew he still saw him as a brother. When we'd fought Luke on Mount Tamalpais last winter, he'd somehow survived a fifty-foot fall off a cliff. Now, as far as I knew, he was still sailing around on his demon-infested cruise ship while his chopped-up Lord Kronos re-formed, bit by bit, in a golden sarcophagus, biding his time until he had enough power to challenge the Olympian gods. In demigod-speak, we call this a "problem".

"Mount Tam is still overrun with monsters," Anthony said. "I didn't dare go close, but I don't think Luke is up there. I think I would know if he was."

That didn't make me feel much better. "What about Gretel?"

"She's at camp," he said. "We'll see her today."

"Did she have any luck? I mean, with the search for Pan?"

Anthony fingered his bead necklace, the way he does when he's worried.

"You'll see," he said. But he didn't explain.

As we headed through Brooklyn, I used Anthony's phone to call my mom. Half-bloods try not to use cell phones if we can avoid it, because broadcasting our voices is like sending up a flare to the monsters: _Here I am! Please eat me now!_ But I figured this call was important. I left a message on her home voice mail, trying to explain what had happened at Goode. I probably didn't do a very good job. I told my mom I was fine, she shouldn't worry, but I was going to stay at camp until things cooled down. I asked her to tell Paul Blofis I was sorry.

We rode in silence after that. The city melted away until we were off the expressway and rolling through the countryside of northern Long Island, past orchards and wineries and fresh produced stands.

I stared at the phone number Rachel Elizabeth Dare had scrawled on my hand. I knew it was crazy, considering the mood I was in, but I was tempted to call her. Maybe she could help me understand what the _empousa_ had been talking about—the camp burning, my friends imprisoned. And why had Kelli exploded into flames?

I knew monsters never truly died. Eventually—maybe weeks, months, or years from now—Kelli would reform out of the primordial nastiness seething in the Underworld. But still, monsters didn't usually let themselves get destroyed so easily. If she really _was_ destroyed.

The taxi exited on Route 25A. We headed through the woods along the North Shore until a low ridge of hills appeared on our left. Anthony told the driver to pull over on Farm Road 3.141, at the base of Half-Blood Hill.

The driver frowned. "There ain't nothing here, mister. You sure you want out?"

"Yes, please." Anthony handed him a roll of mortal cash, and the driver decided not to argue.

Anthony and I hiked to the crest of the hill. The young guardian dragon was dozing, coiled around the pine tree, but he lifted his coppery head as we approached and allowed me to scratch under his chin. Steam hissed out his nostrils like from a teakettle, and he went cross-eyed with pleasure.

"Hey, Peleus," I said. "Keeping everything safe?"

The last time I'd seen the dragon he'd been six feet long. Now he was at least twice that, and as thick around as the tree itself. Above his head, on the lower branch of the pine tree, the Golden Fleece shimmered, its magic protecting the camp's borders from invasion. The dragon seemed relaxed, like everything was okay. Below us, Camp Half-Blood looked peaceful—green fields, forest, shiny white Greek buildings. The four-story farmhouse we called the Big House sat proudly in the midst of the strawberry fields. The the north, past the beach, the Long Island Sound glittered in the sunlight.

Still...something felt wrong. There was tension in the air, as if the hill itself were holding its breath, waiting for something bad to happen.

We walked down into the valley and found the summer session in full swing. Most of the campers had arrived last Friday, so I already felt out of it. The satyrs were playing their pipes in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow with woodland magic. Campers were having flying horseback lessons, swooping over the woods on their pegasi. Smoke rose from the forges, and hammers rang as kids made their own weapons for Arts & Crafts. The Athena and Demeter teams were having a chariot race around the track, and over at the canoe lake some kids in a Greek trireme were fighting a large orange sea serpent. A typical day at camp.

"I need to talk to Clarisse," Anthony said.

I stared at him as if he'd just said _I need to eat a large, smelly boot_. "What for?"

Clarisse from the Ares cabin was one of my least favorite people. She was a mean, ungrateful bully. Her dad, the war god, wanted to kill me. She tried to beat me to a pulp on a regular basis. Other than that, she was just great.

"We've been working on something," Anthony said.

"I guess if I ask what you two were working on, I'll probably just get no response like usual."

Anthony snickered a little and grinned. "Really? Well, you'd get five dollars for winning that bet. I'll tell Chiron you're here," he said. "He'll want to talk to you before the hearing."

"What hearing?"

He only handed me five dollars before he jogged down the path toward the archery field without looking back.

"Yeah," I muttered as I held onto the bundle of cash in my hand. "Great talking with you, too."

* * *

As I made my way through camp, I said hi to some of my friends. In the Big House's driveway, Connor and Travis Stoll from the Hermes cabin were hot-wiring the camp's SUV. Silena Beauregard, the head counselor for Aphrodite and one of my closest friends, waved at me from her pegasus as she flew past. I looked for Gretel, but I didn't see her. Finally I wandered into the sword arena, where I usually go when I'm in a bad mood. Practicing always calms me down. Maybe that's because swordplay is one thing I actually understand.

I walked into the amphitheater and my heart almost stopped. In the middle of the arena floor, with its back to me, was the biggest hellhound I'd ever seen.

I mean, I've seen some pretty big hellhounds. One the size of a rhino tried to kill me when I was twelve. But _this_ hellhound was bigger than a tank. I had no idea how it had gotten past the camp's magic boundaries. It looked right at home, lying on its belly, growling contentedly as it chewed the head off a combat dummy. It hadn't noticed me yet, but if I made a sound, I knew it would sense me. There was no time to go for help. I pulled out Riptide and uncapped it.

"Yaaaaah!" I charged. I brought down the blade on the monster's enormous backside when out of nowhere another sword blocked my strike.

 _CLANG!_

The hellhound pricked up its ears. " _WOOF!_ "

I jumped back and instinctively struck at the swordsman—a gray-haired man in Greek armor. He parried my attack with no problem.

"Whoa there, young lady!" he said. "Truce!"

" _WOOF!_ " The hellhound's bark shook the arena.

"That's a hellhound!" I shouted.

"She's harmless," the man said. "That's Mrs. O'Leary."

I blinked. "Mrs. O'Leary?"

At the sound of her name, the hellhound barked again. I realized she wasn't angry. She was excited. She nudged the soggy, badly chewed target dummy toward the swordsman.

"Good girl," the man said. With his free hand he grabbed the armored manikin by the neck and heaved it toward the bleachers. "Get the Greek! Get the Greek!"

Mrs. O'Leary bounded after her prey and pounced on the dummy, flattening its armor. She began chewing on its helmet.

The swordsman smiled dryly. He was in his fifties, I guess, with short gray hair and a clipped gray bread. He was in good shape for an older guy. He wore black mountain-climbing pants and a bronze breastplate strapped over an orange camp T-shirt. At the base of his neck was a strange mark, a purplish blotch like a birthmark or a tattoo, but before I could make out what it was, he shifted his armor straps and the mark disappeared under his collar.

"Mrs. O'Leary is my pet," he explained. "I couldn't let you stick a sword in her rump, now, could I? That might have scared her."

"Who are you?"

"Promise not to kill me if I put my sword away?"

"I guess."

He sheathed his sword and held out his hand. "Quintus."

I shook his hand. It was as rough as sandpaper.

"Persephone Jackson, but call me Perci," I said. "Sorry about—How did you, um—"

"Get a hellhound for a pet? Long story, involving many close calls with death and quite a few giant chew toys. I'm the new sword instructor, by the way. Helping out Chiron while Mr. D is away."

"Oh." I tried not to stare as Mrs. O'Leary ripped off the target dummy's shield with the arms still attached and shook it like a Frisbee. "Wait, Mr. D is away?"

"Yes, well...busy times. Even Dionysus must help out. He's gone to visit some old friends. Make sure they're on the right side. I probably shouldn't say more than that."

If Dionysus was gone, that was the best news I'd had all day. He was only our camp director because Zeus had sent him here as a punishment for chasing some off-limits wood nymph. He hated the campers and tried to make our lives miserable. With him away, this summer might actually be cool. On the other hand, if Dionysus had gotten off his butt and actually started helping the gods recruit against the Titan threat, things must be looking pretty bad.

Off to my left, there was a loud _BUMP_. Six wooden crates the size of picnic tables were stacked nearby, and they were rattling. Mrs. O'Leary cocked her head and bounded toward them.

"Whoa, girl!" Quintus said. "Those aren't for you." He distracted her with the bronze shield Frisbee.

The crates thumped and shook. There were words printed on the sides, but with my dyslexia they took me a few minutes to decipher:

TRIPLE G RANCH

FRAGILE

THIS END UP

Along the bottom, in smaller letters: OPEN WITH CARE. TRIPLE G RANCH IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR PROPERTY DAMAGE, MAIMING, OR EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL DEATHS.

"What's in the boxes?" I asked.

"A little surprise," Quintus said. "Training activity for tomorrow night. You'll love it."

"Uh, okay," I said, though I wasn't sure about the "excruciating painful death" part.

Quintus threw the bronze shield, and Mrs. O'Leary lumbered after it. "You young ones need more challenges. They didn't have camps like this when I was a boy."

"You—you're a half-blood?" I didn't mean to sound so surprised, but I'd never seen an old demigod before.

Quintus chuckled. "Some of us _do_ survive into adulthood, you know. Not all of us are the subject of terrible prophecies."

"You know about my prophecy?"

"I've heard a few things."

I wanted to ask _what_ few things, but just then Chiron clip-clopped into the arena. "Perci, there you are!"

He must've just come from teaching archery. He had a quiver and how slung over his #1 CENTAUR T-shirt. He'd trimmed his curly brown hair and bread for the summer, and his lower half, which was a brown stallion, was flecked with mud and grass.

"I see you've met our new instructor," Chiron's tone was light, but there was an uneasy look in his eyes. "Quintus, do you mind if I borrow Perci?"

"Not at all, Master Chiron."

"No need to call me "Master'," Chiron said, though he sounded sort of pleased. "Come, Perci. We have much to discuss."

I took one more glance at Mrs. O'Leary, who was now chewing off the target dummy's legs.

"Well, see you," I told Quintus.

As we were walking away, I whispered to Chiron. "Quintus seems kind of—"

"Mysterious?" Chiron suggested. "Hard to read?"

"Yeah."

Chiron nodded. "A very qualified half-blood. Excellent swordsman. I just wish I understood…"

Whatever he was going to say, he apparently changed his mind. "First things first, Perci. Anthony told me you met some _empousai_."

"Yeah." I told him about the fight at Goode, and how Kelli had exploded into flames.

"Mm," Chiron said. "The more powerful ones can do that. She did not die, Perci. She simply escaped. It is not good that the she-demons are stirring."

"What were they doing there?" I asked. "Waiting for me?"

"Possibly," Chiron frowned. "It is amazing you survived. Their powers of deception...almost any male hero would've fallen under their spell and been devoured."

"Thank the gods for me being a demigoddess," I admitted. "And Rachel kinda helped me out."

Chiron nodded. "Ironic to be saved by a mortal, yet we owe her a debt. What the _empousa_ said about an attack on camp—we must speak of this further. But for now, come, we should get into the woods. Gretel will want you there."

"Where?"

"At her formal hearing," Chiron said grimly. "The Council of Cloven Elders is meeting now to decide her fate."

* * *

Chiron said we needed to hurry, so I let him give me a ride on his back. As we galloped past the cabins, I glanced at the dining hall—an open-air Greek pavillion on a hill overlooking the sea. It was the first time I'd seen the place since last winter, and it brought back bad memories.

Chiron plunged into the woods. Nymphs peeked out of the trees to watch us pass. Large shapes rustled in the shadows—monsters that were stocked in here as a challenge to the campers.

I thought I knew the forest pretty well after playing capture the flag here for two summers, but Chiron took me a way I didn't recognize, through a tunnel of old willow trees, past a little waterfall, and into a glade blanketed with wildflowers.

A bunch of satyrs were sitting in a circle in the grass. Gretel stood in the middle, facing three really old, really fat satyrs who sat on topiary thrones shaped out of rose bushes. I'd never seen the three old satyrs before, but I guessed they must be the Council of Cloven Elders.

Gretel seemed to be telling them a story. She twisted her green/golden vine whip around her neck like a scarf, shifting nervously on her soil-producing barefeet. She hadn't changed much since last winter, maybe because satyrs and nymphs age half as fast as humans. She must've gotten herself a haircut, because her amber brown with green hair, which used to reach close to her waist, was now about the length of her chin. Her ears were more visible now, so they looked a little more pointed. I also realized with a start that I was almost taller than she was now.

Standing off to one side of the circle were Anthony, a satyr boy I'd never seen before, and Clarisse. Chiron dropped me next to them.

Clarisse's stringy brown hair was tied back with a camouflage bandanna. If possible, she looked even buffer, like she'd been working out. She glared at me and muttered, "Punk," which must've meant she was in a good mood. Usually she says hello by trying to kill me.

Anthony was patting his hand on the satyr's shoulder, who looked like he'd been crying. He was small—dainty, I guess you'd call it—with curly blonde hair and horns sticking out of his hair. He wore an orange camp T-shirt above his goat hooves. He was rubbing his eyes with his hand. "It's going awful," he sniffled.

"No way," Anthony said. "She'll be fine, Hamilton."

Anthony turned to me and mouthed the words _Gretel's boyfriend_.

At least I thought that's what he said, but that made no sense. Gretel with a boyfriend?

"Mistress Underwood!" the council member on the right shouted, cutting off whatever Gretel was trying to say. "Do you seriously expect us to believe this?"

"B-but, Silenus," Gretel stammered. "It's the truth!"

The Council guy, Silenus, turned to his colleagues and muttered something. Chiron cantered up to the front and stood next to them. I remembered he was an honorary member of the council, but I'd never thought about it much. The elders didn't look very impressive. They reminded me of the goats in a petting zoo—huge bellies, sleepy expressions, and glazed eyes that couldn't see past the next handful of goat chow. I wasn't sure why Gretel looked so nervous.

Silenus tugged his yellow polo shirt over his belly and adjusted himself on his rosebush throne. "Mistress Underwood, for six months— _six months_ —we have been hearing these scandalous claims that you heard the wild god Pan speak."

"But I did!"

"Impudence!" said the elder on the left.

"Now, Maron," Chiron said. "Patience."

"Patience, indeed!" Maron said. "I've had it up to my horns with this nonsense. As if the wild god would speak to...to _her_. A simple dryad, trained in a satyr's woodland magic, purely out of a nymph's desperation."

Hamilton looked like he wanted to charge the old satyr and beat him up, but Anthony and Clarisse held him back. "Wrong fight, goat boy," Clarisse muttered. "Wait."

I don't know what surprised me more: Clarisse holding somebody back from a fight, or the fact that she and Anthony, who despised each other, almost seemed like they were working together.

"For six months," Silenus continued, "we have indulged you, Mistress Underwood. We let you travel. We allowed you to keep your searcher's license. We waited for you to bring proof of your preposterous claim. And what have you found in six months of travel?"

"I just need more time," Gretel pleaded.

"Nothing!" the elder in the middle chimed in. "You have found nothing."

"But, Leneus—"

Silenus raised his hand. Chiron leaned in and said something to the satyrs. The satyrs didn't look happy. They muttered and argued among themselves, but Chiron said something else, and Silenus sighed. He nodded reluctantly.

"Mistress Underwood," Silenus announced," we will give you one more chance."

Gretel brightened. "Thank you!"

"One more week."

"What? But, sir! That's impossible!"

"One more week, Mistress Underwood. And then, if you cannot prove your claims, it will be time for you to pursue another career. Something to suit your tremendous dramatic talents. Puppet theater, perhaps. Or harvesting the gardens."

"But, sir, I—I can't lose my searcher's license. My whole life—"

"This meeting of the council is adjourned," Silenus said. "And now let us enjoy our noonday meal!"

The old satyr clapped his hands, and a bunch of nymphs melted out of the trees with platters of vegetables, fruits, tin cans, and other goat delicacies. The circle of satyrs broke and charged the food. Gretel walked dejectedly toward us. Her midriff-revealing blue T-shirt had a picture of a sunflower on it. It read GOT SUN?

"Hi, Perci," she said, so depressed she didn't even offer to hug me. "That went well, huh?"

"Those old goats!" Hamilton said. "Oh, Gretel, they don't know how hard you've tried!"

"There is another option," Clarisse said darkly.

"No. No." Hamilton shook his head. "Gretel, I won't let you."

Her face was ashen. "I—I'll have to think about it. But we don't even know where to look."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

In the distance, a conch horn sounded.

Anthony pursed his lips. "I'll fill you in later, Perci. We'd better get back to our cabins. Inspection is starting."

* * *

It didn't seem fair that I'd have to do cabin inspection when I just got to camp, but that's the way it worked. Every afternoon, one of the senior counselors came around with a papyrus scroll checklist. Best cabin got first shower hour, which meant hot water guaranteed. Worst cabin got kitchen patrol after dinner.

The problem for me: I was usually the only one in the Poseidon cabin, and I'm not exactly what you call neat. The cleaning harpies only came through on the last day of summer, so my cabin was probably just the way I'd left it on winter break: my candy wrappers and chip bags still on my bunk, my armor for capture the flag mying in pieces all around the cabin.

I raced toward the commons area, where the twelve cabins—one for each Olympian god—made a U around the central green. The Demeter kids were sweeping out theirs and making fresh flowers grow in their window boxes. Just by snapping their fingers they could make honeysuckle vines bloom over their doorway and daisies cover their roof, which was totally unfair. I don't think they ever got last place in inspection. The guys in the Hermes cabin were scrambling around in a panic, stashing dirty laundry under their beds and accusing each other of taking stuff. They were slobs, but they still had a head start on me.

Over at the Aphrodite cabin, Silena Beauregard was just coming out, checking items off the inspection scroll. I cursed under my breath. Silena was nice and one of my closest friends, but she was an absolute neat freak, the worst inspector. She liked things to be pretty. I didn't do "pretty." I could almost feel my arms getting heavy from all the dishes I would have to scrub tonight.

The Poseidon cabin was at the end of the row of "male god" cabins on the right side of the green. It was made of gray shell-encrusted sea rock, long and low like a bunker, but it had windows that faced the sea and it always had a good breeze blowing through it.

I dashed inside, wondering if maybe I could do a quick under-the-bed cleaning job like the Hermes guys, and I found my half-brother Tyson sweeping the floor.

"Perci!" he bellowed. He dropped his broom and ran at me. If you've never been charged by an enthusiastic Cyclops wearing a flowered apron and rubber cleaning gloves, I'm telling you, it'll wake you up quick.

"Hey, big guy!" I said. "Ow, okay. Watch the spine."

I managed to survive his bear hug. He put me down, grinning like crazy, his single calf-brown eye full of excitement. His teeth were as yellow and crooked as ever, and his hair was a rat's next. He wore ragged XXXL jeans and a tattered flannel shirt under his flowered apron, but he was still a sight for sore eyes. I hadn't seen him in almost a year, since he'd gone under the sea to work at the Cyclopes' forges.

"You are okay?" he asked. "Not eaten by monsters?"

"Not even a little bit." I showed him that I still had both arms and both legs, and Tyson clapped happily.

"Yay!" He said. "Now we can eat peanut butter sandwiches and ride fish ponies! We can fight monsters and see Anthony and make things go BOOM!"

I hoped he didn't mean all at the same time, but I told him absolutely, we'd have a lot of fun this summer. I couldn't help smiling, he was so enthusiastic about everything.

"But first," I said, "we've gotta worry about inspection. We should…"

Then I looked around and realized Tyson had been busy. The floor was swept. The bunk beds were made. The saltwater fountain in the corner had been freshly scrubbed so the coral gleamed. On the windowsills, Tyson had set out water-filled vases with sea anemones and strange glowing plants from the bottom of the ocean, more beautiful than any flower bouquets the Demeter kids could whip up.

"Tyson, the cabin looks...amazing!"

He beamed. "See the fish ponies? I put them on the ceiling!"

A herd of miniature bronze hippocampi hung on wires from the ceiling, so it looked like they were swimming through the air. I couldn't believe Tyson, with his huge hands, could make things so delicate. Then I looked over at my bunk, and I saw my old shield hanging on the wall.

"You fixed it!"

The shield had been badly damaged in a manticore attack last winter, but now it was perfect again—not a scratch. All the bronze pictures of my adventures with Tyson and Anthony in the Sea of Monsters were polished and gleaming.

I looked at Tyson. I didn't know how to thank him.

Then somebody behind me said, "Oh, my."

Silena Beauregard was standing in the doorway with her inspection scroll. She stepped into the cabin, did a quick twirl, then raised her eyebrows at me. "Well, I had my doubts. But you clean up nicely, Perci. I'll remember that."

She winked at me and left the room.

* * *

Tyson and I spent the afternoon catching up and just hanging out, which was nice after a morning of getting attacked by demon cheerleaders.

We went down to the forge and helped Beckendorf from the Hephaestus cabin with his metalworking. Tyson showed us how he'd learned to craft magic weapons. He fashioned a flaming double-bladed war axe so fast even Beckendorf was impressed.

While he worked, Tyson told us about his year under the sea. His eye lit up when he described the Cyclopes' forges and the palace of Poseidon, but he also told us how tense things were. The old gods of the sea, who'd ruled during Titan times, were starting to make war on our father. When Tyson had left, battles had been raging all over the Atlantic. Hearing that made me feel anxious, like I should be helping out, but Tyson assured me that Dad wanted us both at camp.

"Lots of bad people above the sea, too," Tyson said. "We can make them go boom."

After the forges, we spent some time at the canoe lake with Anthony. He was really glad to see Tyson again, but I could tell he was distracted. He kept looking over the forest, like he was thinking about Gretel's problem with the council. I couldn't blame him. Gretel was nowhere to be seen, and I felt really bad for her. Finding the lost god Pan had been her lifelong goal. Her mother and her aunt had both disappeared following the same dream. Last winter, Gretel had heard a voice in her head: _I await you_ —a voice she was sure belonged to Pan—but apparently her search had led nowhere. If the council took away her searcher's license now, it would crush her.

"What's this 'other way'?" I asked Anthony. "The thing Clarisse mentioned?"

He picked up a stone and skipped it across the lake. "Something Clarisse scouted out. I helped her a little this spring. But it would be dangerous. Especially for Gretel."

"Nymph girl scares me," Tyson murmured.

I stared at him. Tyson had faced down fire-breathing bulls and sea monsters and cannibal giants. "Why would you be scared of Gretel?"

"Soil feet and roots," Tyson muttered nervously. "And her scent makes my nose itchy."

And that pretty much ended our Gretel conversation.

* * *

Before dinner, Tyson and I went down to the sword arena. Quintus was glad to have company. He still wouldn't tell me what was in the wooden crates, but he did teach me a few sword moves. The guy was good. He fought the way some people play chess—like he was putting all the moves together and you couldn't see the pattern until he made the last stroke and won with a sword at your throat.

"Good try," he told me. "But your guard is too low."

He lunged and I blocked.

"Have you always been a swordsman?" I asked.

He parried my overhead cut. "I've been many things."

He jabbed and I sidestepped. His shoulder strap slipped down, and I saw that mark on his neck—the purple blotch. But it wasn't a random mark. It had a definite shape—a bird with folded wings, like a quail or something.

"What's that on your neck?" I asked, which was probably a rude question, but you can blame by ADHD. I tend to just blurt things out.

Quintus lost his rhythm. I hit his sword hilt and knocked the blade out of his hand.

He rubbed his fingers. Then he shifted his armor to hide the mark. It wasn't a tattoo, I realized. It was an old burn...like he'd been branded.

"A reminder." He picked up his sword and forced a smile. "Now, shall we go again?"

He pressed me hard, not giving me time for any more questions.

While he and I fought, Tyson played with Mrs. O'Leary, who he called the "little doggie." They had a great time wrestling for the bronze shield and playing Get the Greek. By sunset, Quintus hadn't even broken a sweat, which seemed kind of strange; but Tyson and I were hot and sticky, so we hit the showers and got ready for dinner.

I was feeling good. It was almost like a normal day at camp. Then dinner came, and all the campers lined up by cabin and marched into the dining pavilion. Most of them ignored the sealed fissure in the marble floor at the entrance—a ten-foot-long jagged scar that hadn't been there last summer—but I was careful to step over it.

"Big crack," Tyson said when we were at our table. "Earthquake, maybe?"

"No," I said. "Not an earthquake."

I wasn't sure I should tell him. It was a secret only Anthony and Gretel and I knew. But looking in Tyson's big eye, I knew I couldn't hide anything from him.

"Nico di Angelo," I said, lowering my voice. "He's this half-blood kid we brought to camp last winter. He, uh...he asked me to guard his sister on a quest, and I failed. She died. Now he blames me."

Tyson frowned. "So he put a crack in the floor?"

"These skeletons attacked us," I said. "Nico told them to go away, and the ground just opened up and swallowed them. Nico…" I looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Nico is a son of Hades."

Tyson nodded thoughtfully. "The god of dead people."

"Yeah."

"So the Nico boy is gone now?"

"I—I guess. I tried to search for him this spring. So did Anthony. But we didn't have any luck. This is a secret, Tyson. Okay? If anyone found out he was a son of Hades, he would be in danger. You can't even tell Chiron."

"The bad prophecy," Tyson said. "Titans might use him if they knew."

I stared at him. Sometimes it was easy to forget that as big and childlike as he was, Tyson was pretty smart. He knew that the next child of the Big Three gods—Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades—who turned sixteen was prophesied to either save or destroy Mount Olympus. Most people assumed that meant me, but if I died before I turned sixteen, the prophecy could just as easily apply to Nico.

"Exactly," I said. "So—"

"Mouth sealed," Tyson promised. "Like the crack in the ground."

* * *

I had trouble falling asleep that night. I lay in bed listening to the waves on the beach, and the owls and monsters in the woods. I was afraid once I drifted off I'd have nightmares.

See, for half-bloods, dreams are hardly just ever dreams. We get messages. We glimpse things that are happening to our friends or enemies. Sometimes we even glimpse the past or future. And at camp, my dreams were always more frequent and vivid.

I think I remember that someone told me that it's because of my father's blood. He was too changeable and too unpredictable. I don't think I want to admit it, but I think Kronos told me that on my first quest. And Luke claimed that it was impossible for me.

So I was still awake around midnight, staring at the bunk bed mattress above me, when I realized there was a strange light in the room. The saltwater fountain was glowing.

I threw off the covers and walked cautiously toward it. Steam rose from the hot salt water. Rainbow colors shimmered through it, though there was no light in the room except for the moon outside. Then a pleasant female voice spoke from the steam: _Please deposit one drachma_.

I looked over at Tyson, but he was still snoring. He sleeps about as heavily as a tranquilized elephant.

I didn't know what to think. I'd never gotten a collect Iris-message before. One golden drachma gleamed at the bottom of the fountain. I scooped it up and tossed it through the mist. The coin vanished.

"O, Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow," I whispered. "Show me...Uh, whatever you need to show me."

The mist shimmered. I saw the dark shore of a river. Wisps of fog drifted across black water. The beach was strewn with jagged volcanic rock. A young boy squatted at the riverbank, tending a campfire. The flames burned an unnatural blue color. Then I saw the boy's face. It was Nico di Angelo. He was throwing pieces of paper into the fire—Mythomagic trading cards, part of the game he'd been obsessed with last winter.

Nico was only ten, or maybe eleven by now, but he looked older. His hair had grown longer. It was shaggy and almost touched his shoulders. His eyes were dark. His olive skin had turn paler. He wore ripped black jeans and a battered aviator's jacket that was several sizes too big, unzipped over a black shirt. His face was grimy, his eyes a little wild. He looked like a kid who'd been living on the streets.

I waited for him to look at me. No doubt he'd get crazy angry, start accusing me of letting his sister die. But he didn't seem to notice me.

I stayed quiet, not daring to move. If he hadn't sent this Iris-message, who had?

Nico tossed another trading card into the blue flames. "Useless," he muttered. "I can't believe I ever liked this stuff."

"A childish game, master," another voice agreed. It seemed to come from near the fire, but I couldn't see who was talking.

Nico stared across the river. On the far shore was black beach shrouded in haze. I recognized it: the Underworld. Nico was camping at the edge of the River Styx.

"I've failed," he muttered. "There's no way to get her back."

The other voice kept silent.

Nico turned toward it doubtfully. "Is there? Speak."

Something shimmered. I thought it was just firelight. Then I realized it was the form of a man—a wisp of blue smoke, a shadow. If you looked at him head on, he wasn't there. But if you looked out of the corner of your eye, you could make out his shape. A ghost.

"It has never been done," the ghost said. "But there may be a way."

"Tell me," Nico commanded. His eyes shined with a fierce light.

"An exchange," the ghost said. "A soul for a soul."

"I've offered!"

"Not yours," the ghost said. "You cannot offer your father a soul he will eventually collect anyway. Nor will he be anxious for the death of his son. I mean a soul that should have died already. Someone who has cheated death."

Nico's face darkened. "Not that again. You're talking about murder."

"I'm talking about justice," the ghost said. "Vengeance."

"Those are not the same thing."

The ghost laughed dryly. "You will learn differently as you get older."

Nico stared at the flames. "Why can't I at least summon her? I want to talk to her. She would...she would help me."

" _I_ will help you," the ghost promised. "Have I not saved you many times? Did I not lead you through the maze and teach you to use your powers? Do you want revenge for your sister or not?"

I didn't like the ghost's tone of voice. He reminded me of a kid at my old school, a bully who used to convince other kids to do stupid things like steal lab equipment and vandalize the teachers' cars. The bully never got in trouble himself, but he got tons of other kids suspended.

Nico turned from the fire so the ghost couldn't see him, but I could. A tear traced its way down his face. "Very well. You have a plan?"

"Oh, yes," the ghost said, sounding quite pleased. "We have many dark roads to travel. We must start—"

The image shimmer. Nico vanished. The woman's voice from the mist said, _Please deposit one drachma for another five minutes_.

There were no other coins in the fountain. I grabbed for my pockets, but I was wearing pajamas. I lunged for the nightstand to check for spare change, but the Iris-message had already blinked out, and the room went dark again. The connection was broken.

I stood in the middle of the cabin, listening to the gurgle of the saltwater fountain and the ocean waves outside.

Nico was alive. He was trying to bring his sister back from the dead. And I had a feeling I knew what soul he wanted to exchange—someone who had cheated death. Vengeance.

Nico di Angelo would come looking for me.


	3. We Play Tag with Scorpions

[A/N: Just to show you all I'm still alive :).]

 **Chapter 3**

We Play Tag with Scorpions

The next morning there was a lot of excitement at breakfast.

Apparently around three in the morning an Aethiopian drakon had been spotted at the borders of camp. I was so exhausted I slept right through the noise. The magical boundaries had kept the monster out, but it prowled the hills, looking for weak spots in our defenses, and it didn't seem anxious to go away until Lee Fletcher from Apollo's cabin led a couple of his siblings in pursuit. After a few dozen arrows ledged in the chinks of the drakon's armor, it got the message and withdrew.

"It's still out there," Lee warned us during announcements. "Twenty arrows in its hide, and we just made it mad. The thing was thirty feet long and bright green. Its eyes—" He shuddered.

"You did well, Lee." Chiron patted him on the shoulder. "Everyone stay alert, but stay calm. This has happened before."

"Aye," Quintus said from the head table. "And it will happen again. More and more frequently."

The campers murmured among themselves.

Everyone knew the rumors: Luke and his army of monsters were planning an invasion of the camp. Most of us expected it to happen this summer, but no one knew how or when. It didn't help that our attendance was down. We only had about eighty campers. Three years ago, when I'd started, there had been more than a hundred. Some had died. Some had joined Luke. Some had just disappeared.

"This is a good reason for new war games," Quintus continued, a glint in his eyes. "We'll see how you all do with that tonight."

"Yes…" Chiron said. "Well, enough announcements. Let us bless this meal and eat." He raised his goblet. "To the gods!"

We all raised our glasses and repeated the blessing.

Tyson and I took our plates to the bronze brazier and scraped a portion of our food into the flames. I hoped the gods liked raisin toast and Froot Loops.

"Poseidon," I said. Then I whispered, "Help me with Nico, and Luke, and Gretel's problem…"

There was so much to worry about I could've stood there all morning, but I headed back to my table.

Once everyone was eating, Chiron and Gretel came over to visit. Gretel's cheeks were stained with chlorophyll. She slid her plate onto the table and slumped next to me.

Tyson shifted uncomfortably. "I will go...um...polish my fish ponies."

He lumbered off, leaving his breakfast half eaten.

Chiron tried for a smile. He probably wanted to look reassuring, but in centaur form he towered over me, casting a shadow across the table. "Well, Perci, how did you sleep?"

"Uh, fine." I wondered why he asked that. Was it possible he knew something about the weird Iris-message I'd gotten?

"I brought Gretel over," Chiron said, "because I thought you two might want to, ah, discuss matters. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some Iris-messages to send. I'll see you later in the day." He have Gretel a meaningful look, then trotted out of the pavilion.

"What's he talking about?" I asked Gretel.

Gretel chewed her eggs. I could tell she was distracted, because the leaves on her arms were turning brown, falling off, and regrowing again. "He wants you to convince me," she mumbled.

Somebody else slid next to me on the bench: Anthony.

"I'll tell you what it's about," he said. "The Labyrinth."

It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying, because everybody in the dining pavilion was stealing glances at us and whispering. And Anthony was right next to me. I mean _right_ next to me.

"You're not supposed to be here," I said.

"We need to talk," he insisted.

"But the rules…"

He knew as well as I did that campers weren't allowed to switch tables. Satyrs and nymphs were different. They weren't really demigods. But the half-bloods had to sit with their cabins. I wasn't even sure what the punishment was for switching tables. I'd never seen it happen. If Mr. D had been here, he probably would've strangled Anthony with magical grapevines or something, but Mr. D wasn't here. Chiron had already left the pavilion. Quintus looked over and raised an eyebrow, but he didn't say anything.

"Look," Anthony said, "Gretel is in trouble. There's only one way we can figure to help her. It's the Labyrinth. That's what Clarisse and I have been investigating."

I shifted my weight, trying to think clearly. "You mean the maze where they kept the Minotaur, back in the old days?"

"Exactly," Anthony said.

"So...it's not under the king's palace in Crete anymore," I guessed. "The Labyrinth is under some building in America."

See? It only took me a few years to figure things out. I knew that important places moved around with Western Civilization, like Mount Olympus being over the Empire State Building, and the Underworld entrance being in Los Angeles. I was feeling pretty proud of myself.

Anthony rolled his eyes. "Under a building? Please, Perci. The Labyrinth is _huge_. It wouldn't fit under a single city, much less a single building."

I thought about my dream of Nico at the River Styx. "So...is the Labyrinth part of the Underworld?"

"No," Anthony frowned. "Well, there may be passages from the Labyrinth down _into_ the Underworld. I'm not sure. But the Underworld is way, way down. The Labyrinth is right under the surface of the mortal world, kind of like a second skin. It's been growing for thousands of years, lacing its way under Western cities, connecting everything together underground. You can get anywhere through the Labyrinth."

"If you don't get lost," Gretel muttered. "And die a horrible death."

"Gretel, there has to be a way," Anthony said. I got the feeling they'd had this conversation before. "Clarisse lived."

"Barely!" Gretel said. "And the other guy—"

"He was driven insane. He didn't die."

"Oh, joy. That makes me feel so much better."

"Whoa," I said. "Back up. What's this about Clarisse and a crazy guy?"

Anthony glanced over toward the Ares table. Clarisse was watching us like she knew what we were talking about, but then she fixed her eyes on her breakfast plate.

"Last year," Anthony said, lowering his voice, "Clarisse went on a mission for Chiron."

"I remember," I said. "It was secret."

Anthony nodded. Despite how serious he was acting, I was happy that he wasn't looking lost anymore. And I, for one, am glad that I was no longer mad at him. And I kind of liked the fact that he'd broken the rules to come sit next to me.

"It was secret," Anthony agreed, "because she found Chris Rodriguez."

"The guy from the Hermes cabin?" I remembered him from two years ago. We'd eavesdropped on Chris Rodriguez aboard Luke's ship, the _Princess Andromeda_. Chris was one of the half-bloods who'd abandoned camp and joined the Titan army.

"Yeah," Anthony said. "Last summer he just appeared in Phoenix, Arizona, near Clarisse's mom's house."

"What do you mean he just appeared?"

"He was wandering around the desert, in a hundred and twenty degrees, in full Greek armor, babbling about string."

"String," I said.

"He'd been driven completely insane. Clarisse brought him back to her mom's house so the mortals wouldn't institutionalize him. She tried to nurse him back to health. Chiron came out and interviewed him, but it wasn't much good. The only thing they got out of him: Luke's men have been exploring the Labyrinth."

I shivered, though I wasn't sure exactly why. Poor Chris...he hadn't been that bad a guy. What could've driven him mad? I looked at Gretel, who was wiping her green-stained eyes.

"Okay, why were they exploring the Labyrinth?" I asked.

"We weren't sure," Anthony said. "That's why Clarisse went on a scouting expedition. Chiron kept things hushed up because he didn't want anyone panicking. He got me involved because...well, the Labyrinth was always been one of my favorite subjects. The architecture involved—" His expression turned a little dreamy. "The builder, Daedalus, was a genius. But the point is, the Labyrinth has entrances everywhere. If Luke could figure out how to navigate it, he could move his army around with incredible speed."

"Except it's a maze, right?"

"Full of horrible death traps," Gretel agreed. "Dead ends. Illusions. Psychotic nature-killing monsters."

"But not if you had Ariadne's string," Anthony said. "In the old days, Ariadne's string guided Theseus out of the maze. It was a navigation instrument of some kind, invented by Daedalus. And Chris Rodriguez was mumbling about string."

"So Luke is trying to find Ariadne's string," I said. "Why? What's he planning?"

Anthony shook his head. "I don't know. I thought maybe he wanted to invade camp through the maze, but that doesn't make any sense. The closest entrances Clarisse found were in Manhattan, which wouldn't help Luke get past our borders. Clarisse explored a little way into the tunnels, but...it was very dangerous. She had some close calls. I researched everything I could find about Daedalus. I'm afraid it didn't help much. I don't understand exactly what Luke's planning, but I do know this: the Labyrinth might be the key to Gretel's problem."

I blinked. "You think Pan is underground?"

"It would explain why he's been impossible to find."

Gretel shuddered. "Nymphs and satyrs hate going underground. No searcher would ever try going in _that_ place. No flowers. No sunshine. No coffee shops!"

"But," Anthony said, "the Labyrinth can lead you almost anywhere. It reads your thoughts. It was designed to fool you, to trick you and kill you; but if you can make the Labyrinth work _for_ you—"

"It could lead you to the wild god," I said.

"I can't do it," Gretel hugged her stomach. "Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up my own stomach."

"Gretel, it may be your last chance," Anthony said. "The council is serious. _One_ week or you'll be harvesting gardens!"

Over at the head table, Quintus cleared his throat. I got the feeling he didn't want to made a scene, but Anthony was really pushing it, sitting at my table so long.

"We'll talk later." Anthony squeezed my arm a little too hard. "Convince her, will you?"

He returned to the Athena table, ignoring all the people who were staring at him.

Gretel buried her head in her hands. "I can't do it, Perci. My searcher's license. Pan. I'm going to lose it all. I'll have to start a puppet theater."

"Don't say that! We'll figure something out."

She looked at me chlorophyll-eyed. "Perci, you're my best friend. You've seen me underground. In that Cyclops's cave. Do you really think I could…"

Her voice faltered. I remembered the Sea of Monsters, when she'd been stuck in a Cyclops's cave. She'd never liked underground places to begin with, but now Gretel really hated them. Cyclopes gave her the creeps, too. Even Tyson...Gretel tried to hide it, but Gretel and I could sort of read each other's emotions because if this empathy link Gretel had made between us. I knew how she felt. Gretel was terrified of the big guy.

"I have to go," Gretel said miserably. "Hammy's waiting for me. It's a good thing he finds cowards attractive."

After she was gone, I looked over at Quintus. He nodded gravely, like we were sharing some dark secret. Then we went back to cutting his sausage with a dagger.

* * *

In the afternoon, I went down to the pegasus stables to visit my friend Twilight.

 _Hey, Perci!_ She capered around in her stall, her black wings buffeting the air. _You bring me some sugar cubes?_

"You know those aren't good for you, Twilight."

 _Yeah, so you brought me some, huh?_

I smiled and fed her a handful. Twilight and I went back a long way. I sort of helped rescue her from Luke's demon cruise ship a few years ago, and ever since, she insisted on repaying my with favors.

 _So we got any quests coming up?_ Twilight asked. _I'm ready to fly!_

I patted her nose. "Not sure, Twi. Everybody keeps talking about underground mazes."

Twilight whinnied nervously. _Nuh-uh. Not for this horse! You ain't gonna be crazy enough to go in no maze, Perci. Are ya? You'll end up in the glue factory!_

"You may be right, Twilight. We'll see."

Twilight crunched down her sugar cubes. She shook her mane like she was having a sugar seizure. _Whoa! Good stuff! Well, Perci, you come to your senses and want to fly somewhere, just give a whistle. Me and my buddies, we'll stampede anybody for ya!_

I told her I'd keep it in mind. Then a group of younger campers came into the stables to start their riding lessons, and I decided it was time to leave. I had a bad feeling I wasn't going to see Twilight for a long time.

* * *

That night after dinner, Quintus had us suit up in combat armor like we were getting ready for capture the flag, but the mood among the campers was a lot more serious. Sometimes during the day the crates in the arena had disappeared, and I had a feeling whatever was in them had been emptied into the woods.

"Right," Quintus said, standing on the head dining table. "Gather 'round."

He was dressed in black leather and bronze. In the torchlight, his gray hair made him look like a ghost. Mrs. O'Leary bounded happily around him, foraging for dinner scraps.

"You will be in teams of two," Quintus announced. When everybody started talking and trying to grab their friends, he yelled: "Which have already been chosen!"

"AWWWWW!" everybody complained.

"Your goal is simple: collect the gold laurels without dying. The wreath is wrapped in a silk package, tied to the back of one of the monsters. There are six monsters. Each has a silk package. Only one holds the laurels. You must find the wreath before the other teams. And, of course...you will have to slay the monster to get it, and stay alive."

The crowd started murmuring excitedly. The task sounded pretty straightforward. Hey, we'd all slain monsters before. That's what we trained for.

"I will now announce your partners," Quintus said. "There will be no trading. No switching. No complaining."

" _Aroooof!_ " Mrs. O'Leary buried her face in a plate of pizza.

Quintus produced a big scroll and started reading off names. Beckendorf would be with Silena Beauregard, which Beckendorf looked pretty happy about. The Stoll brothers, Travis and Connor, would be together. No surprise. They did everything together. Clarisse was with Lee Fletcher from the Apollo cabin—melee and ranged combat combined, they would be a tough combo to beat. Quintus kept rattling off the names until he said, "Perci Jackson with Anthony Chase."

"Nice," I said.

"Your armor is crooked," was his only comment, and he redid my straps for me.

"Gretel Underwood," Quintus said, "with Tyson."

Gretel just about jumped out of her soil. "What? B-but—"

"No, no," Tyson whimpered. "Must be a mistake. Tree girl—"

"No complaining!" Quintus ordered. "Get with your partner. You have two minutes to prepare!"

Tyson and Gretel both looked at me pleadingly. I tried to give them an encouraging nod, and gestured that they should move together. Tyson sneezed. Gretel started chewing nervously on her gold-and-green vine whip.

"They'll be fine," Anthony told me. "Come on. Let's worry about how we're going to stay alive."

* * *

It was still light when we got into the woods, but the shadows from the trees made it feel like midnight. It was cold, too, even in summer. Anthony and I found tracks almost immediately—scuttling marks made by something with a lot of legs. We began to follow the trail.

We jumped a creek and heard some twigs snapping nearby. We crouched behind a boulder, but it was only the Stoll brothers tripping through the woods and cursing. Their dad was the god of thieves, but they were about as stealthy as water buffalos.

Once the Stoll brothers had passed, we forged deeper into the west woods where the monsters were wilder. We were standing on a ledge overlooking a marshy lond when Anthony tensed. "This is where we stopped looking."

It took me a second to realize what he meant. Last winter, when we'd been searching for Nico di Angelo, this is where we'd given up hope of finding him. Gretel, Anthony, and I had stood on this rock, and I'd convinced them not to tell Chiron the truth: that Nico was a son of Hades. At the time it seemed the right thing to do. I wanted to protect his identity. I wanted to be the one to find him and make things right for what had happened to his sister. Now, six months later, I hadn't even come close to finding him. It left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"I saw him last night," I said.

Anthony knit his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

I told him about the Iris-message. When I was done, he stared into the shadows of the woods. "He's summoning the dead? That's not good."

"The ghost was giving him bad advice," I said. "Telling him to take revenge."

"Yeah...spirits are never good advisers. They've got their own agendas. Old grudges. And they resent the living."

"He's going to come after me," I said. "The spirit mentioned a maze."

He nodded. "That settles it. We _have_ to figure out the Labyrinth."

"Maybe," I said uncomfortably. "But who sent the Iris-message? If Nico didn't know I was there—"

A branch snapped in the woods. Dry leaves rustled. Something large was moving in the trees, just beyond the ridge.

"That's not the Stoll brothers," Anthony whispered.

Together we drew our swords.

* * *

We got to Zeus's Fist, a huge pile of boulders in the middle of the west woods. It was a natural landmark where campers often rendezvoused on hunting expeditions, but now there was nobody around.

"Over there," Anthony whispered.

"No, wait," I said. "Behind us."

It was weird. Scuttling noises seemed to be coming from several directions. We were circling the boulders, our swords drawn, when someone right behind us said, "Hi."

We whirled around, and the satyr Hamilton yelped.

"Put those down!" he protested. "Satyrs don't like sharp blades, okay?"

"Hamilton," Anthony exhaled. "What are you doing here?"

"My buddies call me Ham. This is where Gretel lives."

I lowered my sword. "In the boulders?"

He pointed toward the edge of the clearing. "Near the juniper tree. Duh. That was her aunt's old tree, that died out when she was killed by a gorgon."

It made sense, and I felt kind of stupid. I'd been hanging around dryads for years, but I never really talked to them much, besides Gretel. She lived in a tree where her Aunt Juniper lived, probably as a memory as far as I could guess. I knew dryads couldn't go very far from their tree, which was their source of life. Gretel, however, was the only exception from every dryad I'd met. She was trained in a satyr's woodland magic, so obviously she could go across the country without her tree with her nature magic protecting her life force, as long as her tree was still standing.

"Are you guys busy?" Ham asked.

"Well," I said, "we're in the middle of this game against a bunch of monsters and we're trying not to die."

"We're not busy," Anthony said. "What's wrong, Ham?"

Ham sniffled. He chewed on a piece of celery. "It's Gretel. She seems so distraught. All year she's been out looking for Pan. And every time she comes back, it's worse. Her tree keeps losing its leaves, like she's abandoning her woodland magic."

"What?" I asked. "How could she _abandon_ her magic?"

"You've known her longer than anyone, Perci. The Council of Cloven Elders were reluctant to actually teach a wood nymph the ways of the satyr. They finally gave her the chance when her aunt persuaded them. But after that meeting, she's beginning to feel like all of those years of training in satyr's magic was a waste of time."

Anthony made a look of understanding. He looked at me. "He's right." He said gravely. "If Gretel's grows more depressed, she'll grow weaker and weaker until she's nothing but a simple dryad again...and she won't be able to go on any more quests again."

I was completely stunned. I had absolutely no idea how serious Gretel's problem was. "But that's totally unfair!" I protested.

"There's no question about that, Perci. The Elders can't rid of her magic by force, but she can by her own will. And to be honest, they're probably doing this on a strict basis for Gretel. They hate it when a nature spirit outsmarts a goat."

Anthony turned back to Ham. "Ham," he said, "Gretel is just stressed out about her searcher's license."

"She can't go underground!" he protested. "You can't let her."

Anthony looked uncomfortable. "It might be the only way to help her; if we just knew where to start."

"Ah." Ham wiped the tears off his eyes. "About that…"

Another rustle in the woods, and Ham yelled, "Hide!"

Before I could ask why, he trotted into the woods in a hurry.

Anthony and I turned. Coming out of the woods was a glistening amber insect, ten feet long, with jagged pincers, an armored tail, and a stinger as long as my sword. A scorpion. Tied to its back was a red silk package.

"One of us gets behind it," Anthony said, as the thing clattered toward us. "Cuts off its tail while the other distracts it in front."

"I'll take point," I said. "You've got the invisibility hat."

He nodded. We'd fought together so many times we knew each other's moves. We could do this, easy. But it all went wrong when the other two scorpions appeared from the woods.

" _Three?_ " Anthony said. "That's not possible! The whole woods, and half the monsters come at us?"

I swallowed. One, we could take. Two, with a little luck. Three? Doubtful.

The scorpions scurried toward us, whipping their barbed tails like they'd come here just to kill us. Anthony and I put our backs against the nearest boulder.

"Climb?" I said.

"No time," he said.

He was right. The scorpions were already surrounding us. They were so close I could see their hideous mouths foaming, anticipating a nice juicy meal of demigods.

"Look out!" Anthony parried away a stinger with the flat of his blade. I stabbed with Riptide, but the scorpion backed out of range. We clambered sideways along the boulders, but the scorpions followed us. I slashed at another one, but going on the offensive was too dangerous. If I went for the body, the tail stabbed downward. If I went for the tail, the thing's pincers came from either side and tried to grab me. All we could do was defend, and we wouldn't be able to keep that up for very long.

I took another step sideways, and suddenly there was nothing behind me. It was a crack between two of the largest boulders, something I'd probably passed by a million times, but…

"In here," I said.

Anthony sliced at a scorpion then looked at me like I was crazy. " _In there?_ It's too narrow."

"I'll cover you. Go!"

He ducked behind me and started squeezing between the two boulders. Then he yelped and grabbed my armor straps, and suddenly I was tumbling into a pit that hadn't been there a moment before. I could see the scorpions above us, the purple evening sky and the trees, and then the hole shut like the lens of a camera, and we were in complete darkness.

Our breathing echoed against stone. It was wet and cold. I was sitting on a bumpy floor that seemed to be made of bricks.

I lifted Riptide. The faint glow of the blade was just enough to illuminate Anthony's frightened face and the mossy stone walls on either side of us.

"Wh-where are we?" Anthony said.

"Safe from scorpions, anyway." I tried to sound calm, but I was freaking out. The crack between the boulders couldn't have led into a cave. I would've known if there was a cave here; I was sure of it. It was like the ground had opened up and swallowed us. All I could think of was the fissure in the dining pavilion, where those skeletons had been consumed last winter. I wondered if the same thing had happened to us.

I lifted my sword again for light.

"It's a long room," I muttered.

Anthony gripped my arm. "It's not a room. It's a corridor."

He was right. The darkness felt...emptier in front of us. There was a warm breeze, like in subway tunnels, only it felt older, more dangerous somehow.

I started forward, but Anthony stopped me. "Don't take another step," he warned. "We need to find the exit."

He sounded really scared now.

"It's okay," I promised. "It's right—"

I looked up and realized I couldn't see where we'd fallen in. The ceiling was solid stone. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions.

Anthony's hand slipped into mine. Under different circumstances I would've been embarrassed, but here in the dark I was glad to know where he was. It was about the only thing I was sure of.

"Two steps back," he advised.

We stepped backward together like we were in a minefield.

"Okay," he said. "Help me examine the walls."

"What for?"

"The mark of Daedalus," he said, as if that was supposed to make sense.

"Uh, okay. What kind of—"

"Got it!" he said with relief. He set his hand on the wall and pressed against a tiny fissure, which began to glow blue. A Greek symbol appeared: ∆, the Ancient Greek Delta.

The roof slid open and we saw night sky, stars blazing. It was a lot darker than it should've been. Metal ladder rungs appeared in the side of the wall, leading up, and I could hear people yelling our names.

"Perci! Anthony!" Tyson's voice bellowed the loudest, but others were calling out too.

I looked nervously at Anthony. Then we began to climb.

* * *

We made our way around the rocks the rocks and ran into Clarisse and a bunch of other campers carrying torches.

"Where have you two been?" Clarisse demanded. "We've been looking forever."

"But we were only gone a few minutes," I said.

Chiron trotted up, followed by Tyson and Gretel.

"Perci!" Tyson said. "You are okay?"

"We're fine," I said. "We fell in a hole."

The others looked at me skeptically, then at Anthony.

"Honest!" I said. "There were three scorpions after us, so we ran and hid in the rocks. But we were only gone a minute."

"You've been missing for almost an hour," Chiron said. "The game is over."

"Yeah," Gretel muttered. "We would've won, but a Cyclops sat on me."

"Was an accident!" Tyson protested, and then he sneezed.

Clarisse was wearing the gold laurels, but she didn't even brag about winning them, which wasn't like her. "A hole?" she asked suspiciously.

Anthony took a deep breath. He looked around at the other campers. "Chiron...maybe we should talk about this at the Big House."

Clarisse gasped. "You found it, didn't you?"

Anthony bit his lip. "I—Yeah. Yeah, we did."

A bunch of campers started asking questions, looking about as confused as I was, but Chiron raised his hand for silence. "Tonight is not the right time, and this is not the right place." He stared at the boulders as if he'd just noticed how dangerous they were. "All of you, back to your cabins. Get some sleep. A game well played, but curfew is past!"

There was a lot of mumbling and complaints, but the campers drifted off, talking among themselves and giving me suspicious looks.

"This explains a lot," Clarisse said. "It explains what Luke is after."

"Wait a second," I said. "What do you mean? What did we find?"

Anthony turned toward me, his eyes dark with worry. "An entrance to the Labyrinth. An invasion route straight into the heart of the camp."


	4. Anthony Breaks the Rules

**Chapter 4**

Anthony Breaks the Rules

Chiron had insisted we talk about it in the morning, which was kind of like, _Hey, your life's in mortal danger. Sleep tight!_ It was hard to fall asleep, but when I finally did, I dreamed of a prison.

I saw a boy in a Greek tunic and sandals crouching alone in a massive stone room. The ceiling was open to the night sky, but the walls were twenty feet high and polished marble, completely smooth. Scattered around the room were wooden crates. Some were cracked and tipped over, as if they'd been flung in there. Bronze tools spilled out of one—a compass, a saw, and a bunch of other things I didn't recognize.

The boy huddled in the corner, shivering from cold, or maybe fear. He was spattered in mud. His legs, arms, and face were scraped up as if he'd been dragged here along with the boxes.

Then the double oak doors moaned open. Two guards in bronze armor marched in, holding an old man between them. They flung him to the floor in a battered heap.

"Father!" The boy ran to him. The man's robes were in tatters. His hair was streaked with gray, and his beard was long and curly. His nose had been broken. His lips were bloody.

The boy took the old man's head in his arms. "What did they do to you?" Then he yelled at the guards, "I'll kill you!"

"There will be no killing today," a voice said.

The guards moved aside. Behind them stood a tall man in white robes. He wore a thin circlet of gold on his head. His beard was pointed like a spear blade. His eyes glittered cruelly. "You helped the Athenian kill my Minotaur, Daedalus. You turned my own daughter against me."

"You did that yourself, Your Majesty," the old man croaked.

A guard planted a kick in the old man's ribs. He groaned in agony. The young boy cried, "Stop!"

"You love your maze so much," the king said, "I have decided to let you stay here. This will be your workshop. Make me new wonders. Amuse me. Every maze needs a monster. You shall be mine!"

"I don't fear you," the old man groaned.

The king smiled coldly. He locked his eyes on the boy. "But a man cares about his son, eh? Displease me, old man, and the next time my guards inflict a punishment, it will be on him!"

The king swept out of the room with his guards, and the doors slammed shut, leaving the boy and his father alone in the darkness.

"What will we do?" the boy moaned. "Father, they will kill you!"

The old man swallowed with difficulty. He tried to smile, but it was a gruesome sight with his bloody mouth.

"Take heart, my son." He gazed up at the stars. "I—I will find a way."

A bar lowered across the doors with a fatal _BOOM_ , and I woke in a cold sweat.

* * *

I was still feeling shaky the next morning when Chiron called a war council. We met in the sword arena, which I thought was pretty strange—trying to discuss the fate of the camp with Mrs. O'Leary chewed on a life-size squeaky pink rubber yak.

Chiron and Quintus stood at the front by the weapon racks. Clarisse and Anthony sat next to each other and led the briefing. Tyson and Gretel sat as far away from each other as possible. Also present around the table: Hamilton the satyr, Silena Beauregard, Travis and Connor Stoll, Charles Beckendorf, Lee Fletcher, even Argus, our hundred-eyed security chief. That's how I knew it was serious. Argus hardly ever shows up unless something really major is going on. The whole time Anthony spoke, he kept his hundred blue eyes trained on him so hard his whole body turned bloodshot.

"Luke must have known about the Labyrinth entrance," Anthony said. "He knew everything about camp."

I thought I heard a little pride in his voice, like he still respected the guy, as evil as he was.

Ham cleared his throat. "That's what I was trying to tell you last night. The cave entrance has been there a long time. Luke used to use it."

Silena Beauregard frowned. "You knew about the Labyrinth entrance, and you didn't say anything?"

Ham looked offended. "I didn't know it was important. Just a cave. Satyrs don't like old caves."

"He's got good taste," Gretel muttered to me.

"I wouldn't have paid any attention except...well, Luke was a great fighter." He smiled sheepishly.

Gretel huffed. "Forget what I said about good taste."

"Interesting." Quintus polished his sword as he spoke. "And you believe this young man, Luke, would dare use the Labyrinth as an invasion route?"

"Definitely," Clarisse said. "If he could get an army of monsters inside Camp Half-Blood, just pop up in the middle of the woods without having to worry about our magical boundaries, we wouldn't stand a chance. He could wipe us out easy. He must've been planning this for months."

"He's been sending scouts into the maze," Anthony said. "We know because...because we found one."

"Chris Rodriguez," Chiron said. He gave Quintus a meaningful look.

"Ah," Quintus said. "The one in the...Yes. I understand."

"The one in the what?" I asked.

Clarisse glared at me. "The point is, Luke has been looking for a way to navigate the maze. He's searching for Daedalus's workshop."

I remembered my dream the night before—the bloody old man in tattered robes. "The guy who created the maze."

"Yes," Anthony said. "The greatest architect, the greatest inventor of all time. IF the legends are true, his workshop is in the center of the Labyrinth. He's the only one who knew how to navigate the maze perfectly. If Luke managed to find the workshop and convince Daedalus to help him, Luke wouldn't have to fumble around searching for paths, or risk losing his army in the maze's traps. He could navigate anywhere he wanted—quickly and safely. First to Camp Half-Blood to wipe us out. Then...to Olympus."

The arena was silent except for Mrs. O'Leary's toy yak getting disemboweled: _SQUEAK! SQUEAK!_

Finally Beckendorf put his huge hands on the table. "Back up a sec. Anthony, you said 'convince Daedalus'? Isn't Daedalus dead?"

Quintus grunted. "I would hope so. He lived, what, three thousand years ago? And even if he were alive, don't the old stories say he fled from the Labyrinth?"

Chiron clopped restlessly on his hooves. "That's the problem, my dear Quintus. No one knows. There are rumors...well, there are _many_ disturbing rumors about Daedalus, but one is that he disappeared back into the Labyrinth toward the end of his life. He might still be down there."

I thought about the old man I'd seen in my dream. He'd looked so frail, it was hard to believe he'd last another week, lunch less three thousand years.

"We need to go in," Anthony announced. "We have to find the workshop before Luke does. If Daedalus is alive, we convince him to help up, not Luke. If Ariadne's string still exists, we make sure it never falls into Luke's hands."

"Wait a second," I said. "If we're worried about an attack, why not just blow up the entrance? Seal the tunnel?"

"Great idea!" Gretel said. "I'll get the dynamite!"

"It's not so easy, stupid," Clarisse growled. "We tried that at the entrance we found in Phoenix. It didn't go well."

Anthony nodded. "The Labyrinth is magical architecture, Perci. It would take huge power to seal even one of its entrances. In Phoenix, Clarisse demolished a whole building with a wrecking ball, and the maze entrance just shifted a few feet. The best we can do is prevent Luke from learning to navigate the Labyrinth."

"We could fight," Lee Fletcher said. "We know where the entrance is now. We can set up a defensive line and wait for them. If an army tries to come through, they'll find us waiting with our bows."

"We will certainly set us defenses," Chiron agreed. "But I fear Clarisse is right. The magical borders have kept this camp safe for hundreds of years. If Luke manages to get a large army of monsters into the center of camp, bypassing our boundaries...we may not have the strength to defeat them."

Nobody looked real happy about that news. Chiron usually tried to be upbeat and optimistic. If he was predicting we couldn't hold off an attack, that wasn't good.

"We have to get to Daedalus's workshop first," Anthony insisted. "Find Ariadne's string and prevent Luke from using it."

"But if nobody can navigate in there," I said, "what chance do we have?"

"I've been studying architecture for years," he said. "I know Daedalus's Labyrinth better than anybody."

"From reading about it."

"Well, yes."

"That's not enough."

"It has to be!"

"It isn't!"

"Are you going to help me or not?"

I realized that everyone was watching Anthony and me like a tennis match. Mrs. O'Leary's squeaky yak went _EEK!_ as she ripped off its pink rubber head.

Chiron cleared his throat. "First things first. We need a quest. Someone must enter the Labyrinth, find the workshop of Daedalus, and prevent Luke from using the maze to invade this camp."

"We all know who should lead this," Clarisse said. "Anthony."

There was a murmur of agreement. I knew Anthony had been waiting for his own quest since he was a little kid, but he looked uncomfortable.

"You've done as much as I have, Clarisse," he said. "You should go, too."

"Clarisse shook his head. "I'm not going back in there."

Travis Stoll laughed. "Don't tell me you're scared. Clarisse, chicken?"

Clarisse got to her feet. I thought she was going to pulverize Travis, but she said in a shaky voice: "You don't understand anything, punk. I'm never going in there again. Never!"

She stormed out of the arena.

Travis looked around sheepishly. "I didn't mean to—"

Chiron raised his hand. "The poor girl has had a difficult year. Now, do we have an agreement that Anthony should lead the quest?"

We all nodded except Quintus. He folded his arms and stared at the table, but I wasn't sure anyone else noticed.

"Very well." Chiron turned to Anthony. "My son, it's your time to visit the Oracle. Assuming you return to us in one piece, we shall discuss what to do next."

* * *

Waiting for Anthony was harder than visiting the Oracle myself.

I'd heard it speak prophecies twice before. The first time had been in the dusty attic of the Big House, where the spirit of Delphi slept inside the body of a mummified hippie lady. The second time, the Oracle had come out for a little stroll in the woods. I still had nightmares about that.

I'd never felt threatened by the Oracle's presence, but I'd heard stories: campers who'd gone insane, or who'd seen visions so real that died of fear.

I paced the arena, waiting. Mrs. O'Leary ate her lunch, which consisted of a hundred pounds of ground beef and several dog biscuits the size of trash-can lids. I wondered where Quintus got dog biscuits that size. I didn't figure you could just walk into Pet Zone and put those in your shopping cart.

Chiron was deep in conversation with Quintus and Argus. It looked to me like they were disagreeing about something. Quintus kept shaking his head.

On the other side of the arena, Tyson and the Stoll brothers were racing miniature bronze chariots that Tyson had made out of armor scraps.

I gave up on pacing and left the arena. I stared across the fields at the Big House's attic window, dark and still. What was taking Anthony so long? I was pretty sure it hadn't taken me this long to get my quest.

"Perci," a boy whispered.

Ham was standing in the bushes.

He gestured me over urgently. "You need to know: Luke wasn't the only one I saw around that cave."

"What do you mean?"

He glanced back at the arena. "I was trying to say something, but he was right there."

"Who?"

"The sword master," he said. "He was poking around the rocks."

My stomach clenched. "Quintus? When?"

"I don't know. I don't exactly pay attention to time. Maybe a week ago, when he first showed up."

"What was he doing? Did he go in?"

"I—I'm not sure. He creepy Perci. I didn't even see him come into the glade. Suddenly he was just _there_. You have to tell Gretel it's too dangerous—"

"Ham?" Gretel called from inside the arena. "Where'd you go?"

Ham sighed. "I'd better go in. Just remember what I said. Don't trust that man!"

He ran into the arena.

I stared at the Big House, feeling more uneasy than ever. If Quintus was up to something...I needed Anthony's advice. He might know what to make of Ham's news. But where the heck was he? Whatever was happening with the Oracle, it shouldn't be taking this long.

Finally I couldn't stand it anymore.

It was against the rules, but then again, nobody was watching. I ran down the hill and headed across the fields.

* * *

The front parlor of the Big House was strangely quiet. I was used to seeing Dionysus by the fireplace, playing cards and eating grapes and griping at satyrs, but Mr. D was still away.

I walked down the hallway, floorboards creaking under my feet. When I got to the base of the stairs, I hesitated. Four floors above would be a little trap door leading to the attic. Anthony would be up there somewhere. I stood quietly and listened. But what I heard wasn't what I had expected.

Sobbing. And it was coming from below me.

I crept around the back stairs. The basement door was open. I didn't even know the Big House _had_ a basement. I peered inside and saw two figures in the far corner, sitting amid a bunch of stockpiled cases of ambrosia and strawberry preserves. One was Clarisse. The other was a teenage Hispanic guy in tattered camouflage pants and a dirty black T-shirt. His hair was greasy and matted. He was hugging his shoulders and sobbing. It was Chris Rodriguez, the half-blood who'd gone to work for Luke.

"It's okay," Clarisse was telling him. "Try a little more nectar."

"You're an illusion, Mary!" Chris backed farther into the corner. "G-get away."

"My name's not Mary." Clarisse's voice was gentle but really sad. I never knew Clarisse could sound that way. "My name is Clarisse. Remember. Please."

"It's dark!" Chris yelled. "So dark!"

"Come outside," Clarisse coaxed. "The sunlight will help you."

"A...a thousand skulls. The earth keeps healing him."

"Chris," Clarisse pleaded. It sounded like she was close to tears. "You have to get better. Please. Mr. D will be back soon. He's an expert in madness. Just hang on."

Chris's eyes were like a cornered rat's—wild and desperate. "There's no way out, Mary. No way out."

Then he caught a glimpse of me and made a strangled, terrified sound. "The child of Poseidon! He's horrible!"

I backed away, hoping Clarisse hadn't seen me. I listened for her to come charging out and yell at me, but instead she just kept talking to Chris in a sad pleading voice, trying to get him to drink the nectar. Maybe she thought it was part of Chris's hallucination, but... _child of Poseidon?_ Chris had been looking at me, and yet why did I get the feeling he hadn't been talking about me at all?

And Clarisse's tenderness—it had never even occurred to me that she might like someone; but the way she said Chris's name...She'd known him before he changed sides. She'd known him a lot better than I realized. And now he was shivering in a dark basement, afraid to come out, and mumbling about someone named Mary. No wonder Clarisse didn't want anything to do with the Labyrinth. What had happened to Chris in there?

I heard a creak from above—like the attic door opening—and I ran for the front door. I needed to get out of the house.

* * *

"My boy," Chiron said. "You made it."

Anthony walked into the arena. He sat on a stone bench and stared at the floor.

"Well?" Quintus asked.

Anthony looked at me first. I couldn't tell if he was trying to warn me, or if the look in his eyes was just plain fear. Then he focused on Quintus. "I got the prophecy. I will lead the quest to find Daedalus's workshop."

Nobody cheered. I mean, we all liked Anthony, and we wanted her to have a quest, but this one seemed insanely dangerous. After what I'd seen of Chris Rodriguez, I didn't even want to think about Anthony descending into that weird maze again.

Chiron scraped a hoof on the dirt floor. "What did the prophecy say exactly, sport? The wording is important."

Anthony took a deep breath. "I, ah...well, it said, _You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze_ …"

We waited.

" _The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise_."

Gretel perked up. "The lost one! That must be Pan! That's great!"

"With the dead and the traitor," I added. "Not so great."

"And?" Chiron asked. "What is the rest?"

" _You shall rise or fall by the ghost king's hand_ ," Anthony said, " _The child of Athena's final stand_."

Everyone looked around uncomfortably. Anthony was a son of Athena, and a final stand didn't sound good.

"Hey...we shouldn't jump to conclusions," Silena said. "Anthony isn't the only child of Athena, right?"

"But who's this ghost king?" Beckendorf asked.

No one answered. I thought about the Iris-message I'd seen of Nico summoning spirits. I had a bad feeling the prophecy was connected to that.

"Are there more lines?" Chiron asked. "The prophecy does not sound complete."

Anthony hesitated. "I don't remember exactly."

Chiron raised an eyebrow. Anthony was known for his memory. He never forgot something he heard.

Anthony shifted on his bench. "Something about... _Destroy with a hero's final breath_."

"And?" Chiron asked.

He stood. "Look, the point is, I have to go in. I'll find the workshop and stop Luke. And...I need help." He turned to me. "Will you come?"

I didn't even hesitate. "I'm in."

He smiled for the first time in days, and that made it all worthwhile. "Gretel, you too? The wild god is waiting."

Gretel seemed to forget how much she hated the underground, or how much she probably wanted to abandon her woodland magic. The line about the "lost one" had completely energized her. "I'll pack extra fruits for snacks!"

"And Tyson," Anthony said. "I'll need you too."

"Yay! Blow-things-up time!" Tyson clapped so hard he woke up Mrs. O'Leary, who was dozing in the corner.

"Wait, Anthony," Chiron said. "This goes against the ancient laws. A hero is allowed only two companions."

"I need them all," he insisted. "Chiron, it's important."

I didn't know why he was so certain, but I was happy he'd included Tyson. I couldn't imagine leaving him behind. He was huge and strong and great at figuring out mechanical things. Unlike satyrs and nymphs, Cyclopes had no problem underground.

"Anthony," Chiron flicked his tail nervously. "Consider wall. You would be breaking the ancient laws, and there are always consequences. Last winter, five went on a quest to save Artemis. Only three came back. Think on that. Three is a sacred number. There are three Fates, three Furies, three Olympian sons of Kronos. It is a good strong number that stands against many dangers. Four...this is risky."

"I remember on one quest that only one left to find the Golden Fleece." I suddenly pointed out. Anthony turned to me with wide eyes, like he has never thought of that before. "Three snuck away to help out the leader and five came back when one was rescued, remember?"

"And that would be you, Tyson, and Anthony who snuck out to help Clarisse, and save Gretel from a Cyclops island? Breaking the rules with nobody knowing?" Travis added. "You guys were just lucky that Mr. D didn't expel you from camp, let alone incinerate you."

Anthony took a deep breath, but smiled that I stood up for him. "I know, but Perci's right. We have to. Please."

I could tell Chiron didn't like it. Quintus was studying us, like he was trying to decide which of us would come back alive.

Chiron sighed. "Very well. Let us adjourn. The members of the quest must prepare themselves. Tomorrow at dawn, we send you into the Labyrinth."

* * *

Quintus pulled me aside as the council was breaking up.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he told me.

Mrs. O'Leary came over, wagging her tail happily. She dropped her shield at my feet, and I threw it for her. Quintus watched her romp after it. I remembered what Ham had said about him scouting out the maze. I didn't trust him, but when he looked at me, I saw real concern in his eyes.

"I don't like the idea of you going down there," he said. "Any of you. But if you must, I want you to remember something. The Labyrinth exists to fool you. That's dangerous for half-bloods. We are easily distracted."

"You've been in there?"

"Long ago." His voice was ragged. "I barely escaped with my life. Most who enter aren't that lucky."

He gripped my shoulder. "Persephone, keep your mind on what matters most. If you can do that, you might find the way. And here, I wanted to give you something."

He handed me a little silver tube. It was so cold I almost dropped it.

"A whistle?" I asked.

"A dog whistle," Quintus said. "For Mrs. O'Leary."

"Um, thanks, but—"

"How will it work in the maze? I'm not a hundred percent certain it will. But Mrs. O'Leary is a hellhound. She can appear when called, no matter how far away she is. I'd feel better knowing you had this. If you really need help, use it; but be careful, the whistle is made of Stygian ice."

" _What_ ice?"

"From the River Styx. Very hard to craft. Very delicate. It cannot melt, but it will shatter when you blow it, so you can only use it once."

I thought about Luke, my old enemy. Right before I'd gone on my first quest, Luke had given me a gift, too—magic shoes that had been designed to drag me to my death. Quintus seemed so nice. So concerned. And Mrs. O'Leary liked him, which had count for something. She dropped the slimy shield at my feet and barked excitedly.

I felt ashamed that I could even think about mistrusting Quintus. But then again, I'd trusted Luke once.

"Thanks," I told Quintus. I slipped the freezing whistle into my pocket, promising myself that I would never use it, and I dashed off to find Anthony.

* * *

As long as I'd been at camp, I'd never been inside the Athena cabin.

It was a silvery building, nothing fancy, with plain white curtains and a carved stone owl over the doorway. The owl's onyx eyes seemed to follow me as I walked closer.

"Hello?" I called inside.

Nobody answered. I stepped in and caught my breath. The place was a workshop for brainiac kids. The bunks were all pushed against one wall as if sleeping didn't matter very much. Most of the room was filled with workbenches and tables and sets of tools and weapons. The back of the room was a huge library crammed with old scrolls and leather-bound books and paperbacks. There was an architect's drafting table with a bunch of rulers and protractors, and some 3-D models of buildings. Huge old war maps were plastered to the ceiling. Sets of armor hung under the windows, their bronze plates glinting in the sun.

Anthony stood in the back of the room, rifling through old scrolls.

"Knock, knock?" I said.

He turned with a start. "Oh...hey. Didn't hear you."

"You okay?"

He frowned at the scroll in his hands. "Just trying to do some research. Daedalus's Labyrinth is so huge. None of the stories agree about anything. The maps just lead from nowhere to nowhere."

I thought about what Quintus had said, how the maze tries to distract you. I wondered if Anthony knew that already.

"We'll figure it out," I promised.

His hair had been partially matted up and his hair almost hung over his eyes. His gray eyes looked almost black.

"I've wanted to lead a quest since I was seven," he said.

"You're going to do awesome. Remember how unprepared I was when I lead my first quest?"

He looked at me gratefully, but then stared down at all the books and scrolls he'd pulled from the shelves. "I'm worried, Perci. Maybe I shouldn't have asked you to do this. Or Tyson and Gretel."

"Hey, we're your best friends. We wouldn't miss it."

"But…" He stopped himself.

"What is it?" I asked. "The prophecy?"

"I'm sure it's fine," he said in a small voice. I was kind of confused about the last line, but I didn't ask. Anthony just looked so sad in his thoughts, I couldn't help myself.

I put out my arms and he stared at me like I'd gone crazy. But he stepped forward and I hugged him.

"Hey, it's...it's okay." I rubbed his back.

I was aware of everything in the room. I felt like I could read the tiniest print on any book on the shelves. Anthony's hair smelled like lemon soap. He was shivering.

"Chiron might be right," he muttered. "I'm breaking the rules. But I don't know what else to do. I need you three. It just feels right."

"Then don't worry about it," I managed. "We've had plenty of problems before, and we solved them."

"This is different. I don't want anything happening to...any of you."

Behind me, somebody cleared his throat.

It was one of Anthony's half-brothers, Malcolm. His face was bright red. "Um, sorry," he said. "Archery practice is starting, Perci. Chiron said to come find you. And...you weren't in your cabin."

I released Anthony and stepped away from him while I cleared my throat. "We were just looking at maps," I said stupidly.

Malcolm stared at me. "Okay."

"Tell Chiron I'll be right there," I said, and Malcolm left in a hurry.

Anthony exhaled and brushed his bangs over his head. "You go ahead, Perci. You'd better get ready for archery."

He seemed more confused than any Athena child would be. I nodded and I wanted to run from the cabin...but then again I didn't.

"Anthony?" I said. "About your prophecy. The line about a hero's final breath—"

"You're wondering which hero? I don't know."

I rolled my eyes amusingly. "No. Something else. I bet two drachmas you won't give me a straight answer. I was thinking the last line usually rhymes with the one before it. Was it something about—did it end in the word _death_?"

Anthony stared down at his scrolls. Then he gave me two golden drachmas. "You'd better go, Perci. Get ready for the quest. I'll—I'll see you in the morning."

I left him there, staring at maps that led from nowhere to nowhere, for my archery practice; but I couldn't shake the feeling that one of us wasn't going to come back from this quest alive.


	5. Nico Buys Happy Meals for the Dead

**Chapter 5**

Nico Buys Happy Meals for the Dead

At least I got a good night's sleep before the quest, right?

Wrong.

That night in my dream, I was in the stateroom of the _Princess Andromeda_. The windows were open on a moonlit sea. Cold wind rustled the velvet drapes.

Luke knelt on a Persian rug in front of the golden sarcophagus of Kronos. In the moonlight, Luke's blonde hair looked pure white. He wore an ancient Greek _chiton_ and a white _himation_ , a kind of cape that flowed down his shoulders. The white clothes made him look timeless and a little unreal, like one of the minor gods on Mount Olympus. The last time I'd seen him, he'd been broken and unconscious after a nasty fall from Mount Tam. Now he looked perfectly fine. Almost _too_ healthy.

"Our spies report success, my lord," he said. "Camp Half-Blood is sending a quest, as you predicted. Our side of the bargain is almost complete."

 _Excellent_. The voice of Kronos didn't so much speak as pierce my mind like a dagger. It was freezing with cruelty. _Once we have the means to navigate, I will lead the vanguard through myself_.

Luke closed his eyes as if collecting his thoughts. "My lord, perhaps it is too soon. Perhaps Krios or Hyperion should lead—"

 _No_. The voice was quiet but absolutely firm. _I will lead. Once more heart shall join our cause, and that will be sufficient. At last I shall rise fully from Tartarus_.

"But the form, my lord…" Luke's voice started shaking.

 _Show me your sword, Luke Castellan_.

A jolt went through me. I realized I'd never heard Luke's last name before. It had never even occurred to me.

Luke drew his sword. Backbiter's double edge glowed wickedly—half steel, half celestial bronze. I'd almost been killed several times by that sword. It was an evil weapon, able to kill both mortals and monsters. It was the only blade I really feared.

 _You pledged yourself to me_ , Kronos reminded him. _You took this sword as proof of your oath_.

"Yes, my lord. It's just—"

 _You wanted power. I gave you that. You are now beyond harm. Soon you will rule the world of gods and mortals. And rid the pathetic daughter of Poseidon, Perci Jackson, out of my way._ I could've sworn that he made a look of disgust from the sound of my name. _Do you not wish to avenge yourself and kill that meddling girl and everyone she loves? To see Olympus destroyed?_

A shiver ran through Luke's body. "Yes."

I was right all along: Luke really _did_ want to kill not only me, but my friends and family as well. And even Anthony, the one Luke took care of when he was seven. A surge of rage ran through my heart and I wanted to strangle him.

The coffin glowed, golden light filling the room. _Then make ready the strike force. As soon as the bargain is done, we shall move forward. First, Camp Half-Blood will be reduced to ashes. Once those bothersome demigods are eliminated, we will march on Olympus_.

There was a knock on the stateroom doors. The light of the coffin faded. Luke rose. He sheathed his sword, adjusted his white clothes, and took a deep breath.

"Come in."

The doors opened. Two _dracanae_ slithered in—snake women with double serpent trunks instead of legs. Between them walked Kelli, the _empousa_ cheerleader from my freshman orientation.

"Hello, Luke." Kelli smiled. She was wearing a red dress and she looked awesome, but I'd seen her real form. I knew what she was hiding: mismatched legs, red eyes, fangs, and flaming hair.

"What is it, demon?" Luke's voice was cold. "I told you not to disturb me."

Kelli pouted. "That's not very nice. You look tense. How about a nice shoulder massage?"

Luke stepped back. "If you have something to report, say it. Otherwise leave!"

"I don't know why you're so huffy these days. You _used_ to be fun to hang around."

"That was before I saw what you did to that boy in Seattle."

"Oh, he meant nothing to me," Kelli said. "Just a snack, really. You know my heart belongs to you, Luke."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Now report or get out."

Kelli shrugged. "Fine. The advance team is ready, as you requested. We can leave—" She frowned.

"What is it?" Luke asked.

"A presence," Kelli said. "Your senses are getting dull, Luke. We're being watched."

She scanned the stateroom. Her eyes focused right on me. " _Persephone!_ " She growled. Her face withered into a hag's. She bared her fangs and lunged.

* * *

I woke with a start, my heart pounding. I could've sworn the _empousa's_ fangs were an inch from my throat.

Tyson was snoring in the next bunk. The sound calmed me down a little.

I didn't know how Kelli could sense me in a dream, but I'd heard more than I wanted to know. An army was ready. Kronos would lead it personally. All they needed was a way to navigate the Labyrinth so they could invade and destroy Camp Half-Blood, and Luke apparently thought that was going to happen very soon. And he wanted to kill me and everyone I knew and cared about. I was not going to let that happen.

I was tempted to go wake up Anthony and tell him, middle of the night or not. Then I realized the room was lighter than it should have been. A blue-and-green glow was coming from the saltwater fountain, brighter and more urgent than the night before. It was almost like the water was humming.

I got out of bed and approached.

No voice spoke out of the water this time, asking for a deposit. I got the feeling the fountain was waiting for me to make the first move.

I probably should've gone back to bed. Instead I thought about what I'd seen last night—the weird image of Nico at the banks of the River Styx.

"You're trying to tell me something," I said.

No response from the fountain.

"Alright," I said. "Show me Nico di Angelo."

I didn't even throw a coin in, but this time it didn't matter. It was like some other force had control of the water besides Iris the messenger goddess. The water shimmered. Nico appeared, but he was no longer in the Underworld. He was standing in a graveyard under a starry sky. Giant willow trees loomed all around him.

He was watching some gravediggers at work. I heard shovels and saw dirt flying out of a hole. Nico was dressed in a black cloak. The night was foggy. It was warm and humid, and frogs were croaking. A large Wal-Mart bag sat next to Nico's feet.

"Is it deep enough yet?" Nico asked. He sounded irritated.

"Nearly, my lord." It was the same ghost I'd seen Nico with before, the faint shimmering image of a man. "But, my lord, I tell you, this is unnecessary. You already have me for advice."

"I want a second opinion!" Nico snapped his fingers and the digging stopped. Two figures climbed out of the hole. They weren't people. They were skeletons in ragged clothes.

"You are dismissed," Nico said. "Thank you."

The skeletons collapsed into piles of bones.

"You might as well thank the shovels," the ghost complained. "They have as much sense."

Nico ignored him. He reached into his Wal-Mart bag and pulled out a twelve-pack of Coke. He popped open a can. Instead of drinking it, he poured it into the grave.

"Let the dead taste again," he murmured. "Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember."

He dropped the rest of the Cokes into the grave and pulled out a white paper bag decorated with cartoons. I hadn't seen one in years, but I recognized it—a McDonald's Happy Meal.

He turned it upside down and shook the fries and hamburger into the grave.

"In my days, we used animal blood," the ghost mumbled. "It's perfectly good enough. They can't taste the difference."

"I will treat them with respect," Nico said.

"At least let me keep the toy," the ghost said.

"Be quiet!" Nico ordered. He emptied another twelve-pack of soda and three more Happy Meals into the grave, then began chanting in Ancient Greek. I caught only some of the words—a lot about the dead and memories and returning from the grave. Real happy stuff.

The grave started to bubble. Frothy brown liquid rose to the top like the whole thing was filling with soda. The fog thickened. The frogs stopped croaking. Dozens of figures began to appear among the gravestones: bluish, vaguely human shapes. Nico had summoned the dead with Coke and cheeseburgers.

"There are too many," the ghost said nervously. "You don't know your own powers."

"I've got it under control," Nico said, though his voice sounded fragile. He drew his sword—a short blade made of solid black metal. I'd never seen anything like it. It wasn't celestial bronze or steel. Iron, maybe? The crowd of shades retreated at the sight of it.

"One at a time," Nico commanded.

A single figure floated forward and knelt at the pool. It made slurping sounds as it drank. Its ghostly hands scooped french fries out of the pool. When it stood again, I could see it much more clearly—a teenage guy in Greek armor. He had curly hair and green eyes, a clasp shaped like a seashell on his cloak.

"Who are you?" Nico said. "Speak."

The young man frowned as if trying to remember. The he spoke in a voice like dry, crumpling paper: "I am Theseus."

No way, I thought. This couldn't be _the_ Theseus. He was just a kid. I'd grown up hearing stories about him fighting the Minotaur and stuff, but I'd always pictured him as this huge, buff guy. The ghost I was looking at wasn't strong or tall. And he wasn't any older than I was.

"How can I retrieve my sister?" Nico asked.

Theseus's eyes were lifeless as glass. "Do not try. It is madness."

"Just tell me!"

"My stepfather died," Theseus remembered. "He threw himself into the sea because he thought I was dead in the Labyrinth. I wanted to bring him back, but I could not."

Nico's ghost hissed, "My lord, the soul exchange! Ask him about that!"

Theseus scowled. "That voice. I know that voice."

"No you don't, fool!" the ghost said. "Answer the lord's questions and nothing more!"

"I know you," Theseus insisted, as if struggling to recall.

"I want to hear about my sister," Nico said. "Will this quest into the Labyrinth help me win her back?"

Theseus was looking for the ghost, but apparently couldn't see him. Slowly he turned his eyes back on Nico. "The Labyrinth is treacherous. There is only one thing that saw me through: the love of a mortal girl. The string was only part of the answer. It was the princess who guided me."

"We don't need any of that," the ghost said. "I will guide you, my lord. Ask him if it is true about an exchange for souls. He will tell you."

"A soul for a soul," Nico asked. "Is it true?"

"I—I must say yes. But the specter—"

"Just answer the question, knave!" the ghost said.

Suddenly, around the edges of the pool, the other ghosts became restless. They stirred, whispering in nervous tones.

"I want to see my sister!" Nico demanded. "Where is she?"

"He is coming," Theseus said fearfully. "He has sensed your summons. He comes."

"Who?" Nico demanded.

"He comes to find the source of this power," Theseus said. "You must release us!"

The water in my fountain began to tremble, humming with power. I realized the whole cabin was shaking. The noise grew louder. The image of Nico in the graveyard started to glow until it was painful to watch.

"Stop," I said out loud. "Stop it!"

The fountain also began to shake. Tyson muttered in his sleep and turned over. Purple light threw horrible, ghostly shadows on the cabin walls, as if the specters were escaping right out of the fountain.

In desperation uncapped Riptide and slashed at the fountain, cleaving it in two. Salt water spilled everywhere, and the great stone font crashed to the floor in pieces. Tyson snorted and muttered, but he kept sleeping.

I sank to the ground, shivering from what I'd seen. Tyson found me there in the morning, still staring at the shattered remains of the saltwater fountain.

* * *

Just after dawn, the quest group met at Zeus's Fist. I'd packed my knapsack—thermos with nectar, baggie of ambrosia, bedroll, rope, clothes, flashlights, and lots of extra batteries. I had Riptide in my pocket. The magic shield/wristwatch Tyson had made for me was on my wrist.

It was a clear morning. The fog had burned off and the sky was blue. Campers would be having their lesson today, flying pegasi and practicing archery and scaling the lava wall. Meanwhile, we would be heading underground.

Hamilton and Gretel stood apart from the group. Ham had been crying again, but he was trying to keep it together for Gretel's sake. He kept fussing with her clothes and brushing her short hair. Since we had no idea what we would encounter, she was disguised in her human form, with her green streaks gone from her amber hair, tanned skin, and sneakers to hide her soil producing feet.

Chiron, Quintus, and Mrs. O'Leary stood with the other campers who'd come to wish us well, but there was too much activity for it to feel like a happy send-off. A couple of tents had been set up by the rocks for guard duty. Beckendorf and his siblings were working on a line of defensive spikes and trenches. Chiron had decided we needed to guard the Labyrinth exit at all times, just in case.

Anthony was doing one last check on his supply pack. When Tyson and I came over, he frowned. "Perci, you look terrible."

"She killed the water fountain last night," Tyson confided.

"What?" he asked.

Before I could explain, Chiron trotted over. "Well, it appears you are ready!"

He tried to sound upbeat, but I could tell he was anxious. I didn't want to freak him out any more, but I thought about last night's dream, and before I could change my mind, I said, "Hey, uh, Chiron, can I ask you a favor while I'm gone?"

"Of course, my dear."

"Be right back, guys." I nodded toward the woods. Chiron raised an eyebrow, but he followed me out of earshot.

"Last night," I said, "I dreamed about Luke and Kronos." I told him the details. The news seemed to weight on his shoulders.

"I feared this," Chiron said. "Against my father, Kronos, we would stand no chance in a fight."

Chiron rarely called Kronos his father. I mean, we all knew it was true. Everybody in the Greek world—god, monster, or Titan—was related to one another somehow. But it wasn't exactly something Chiron liked to brag about. _Oh, my dad is the all-powerful evil Titan lord who wants to destroy Western Civilization. I want to be just like him when I grow up!_

"Do you know what he meant about a bargain?" I asked.

"I am not sure, but I fear they seek to make a deal with Daedalus. If the old inventor is truly alive, if he has not been driven insane by millennia in the Labyrinth...well, Kronos can find ways to twist anyone to his will."

"Not anyone," I promised.

Chiron managed a smile. "No. Perhaps not anyone. But, Perci, you must beware. I have worried for some time that Kronos may be looking for Daedalus for a different reason, not just passage through the maze."

"What else would he want?"

"Something Anthony and I were discussing. Do you remember what you told me about your first trip to the _Princess Andromeda_ , the first time you saw the golden coffin?"

I nodded. "Luke was talking about raising Kronos, little pieces of him appearing in the coffin every time someone new joined his cause."

"And what did Luke say they would do when Kronos had risen completely?"

A chill went down my spine. "He said they would make Kronos a new body, worthy of the forges of Hephaestus."

"Indeed," Chiron said. "Daedalus was the world's greatest inventor. He created the Labyrinth, but much more. Automatons, thinking machines...What if Kronos wishes Daedalus to make him a new form?"

That was a real pleasant thought.

"We've got to get to Daedalus first," I said, "and convince him not to."

Chiron stared off into the trees. "One other thing I do not understand...this talk of a last soul joining their cause. That does not bode well."

I kept my mouth shut, but I felt guilty. I'd made the decision not to tell Chiron about Nico being a son of Hades. The mention of souls, though—What if Kronos knew about Nico? What if he managed to turn him evil? It was almost enough to make me want to tell Chiron, but I didn't. For one thing, I wasn't sure Chiron could do anything about it. I had to find Nico myself. I had to explain things to him, make him listen.

"I don't know," I said at last. "But, uh, something Ham said, maybe you should hear." I told him how the satyr had seen Quintus poking around the rocks.

Chiron's jaw tightened. "That does not surprise me."

"It doesn't sur— you mean you knew?"

"Perci, when Quintus showed up at camp offering his services...well, I would have to be a fool not to be suspicious."

"Then why did you let him in?"

"Because sometimes it is better to have someone you mistrust close to you, so that you can keep an eye on him. He may be just what he says: a half-blood in search of a home. Certainly he has done nothing openly that would make me question his loyalty. But believe me, I will keep an eye—"

Anthony trudged over, probably curious why we were taking so long.

"Perci, you ready?"

I nodded. My hand slipped into my pocket, where I kept the ice whistle Quintus had given me. I looked over and saw Quintus watching me carefully. He raised his hand in farewell.

 _Our spies report success_ , Luke had said. The same day we decided to send a quest, Luke had known about it.

"Take care," Chiron told us. "And good hunting."

"You too," I said.

We walked over to the rocks, where Tyson and Gretel were waiting. I stared at the crack between the boulders—the entrance that was about to swallow us.

"Well," Gretel said nervously, "goodbye sunshine."

"Hello rocks," Tyson agreed.

And together, the four of us descended into darkness.


	6. We Meet the God with Two Faces

[A/N: Again, sorry for the long wait. I've honestly been losing my influence for writing fanfics and instead reading others. And I've also been busy with college. But don't worry, I'll get myself back on track soon. Also, things have been pretty crazy around me lately (if you all know what I'm talking about, but rest-assured, I'm totally, completely fine), so I thought of taking a break from writing some of my fanfics until things settle down, or to distract myself at least if possible. Enjoy!]

 **Chapter 6**

We Meet the God with Two Faces

We made it a hundred feet before we were hopelessly lost.

The tunnel looked nothing like the one Anthony and I had stumbled into before. Now it was round like a sewer, constructed of red brick with iron-barred portholes every ten feet. I shined a light through one of the portholes out of curiosity, but I couldn't see anything. It opened into infinite darkness. I thought I heard voices on the other side, but it may have been just the cold wind.

Anthony tried his best to guide us. He had this idea that we should stick to the left wall.

"If we keep one hand on the left wall and follow it," he said, "we should be able to find our way out again by reversing course."

Unfortunately, as soon as he said that, the left wall disappeared. We found ourselves in the middle of a circular chamber with eight tunnels leading out, and no idea how we'd gotten there.

"Um, which way did we come in?" Gretel said nervously.

"Just turn around," Anthony said.

We each turned toward a different tunnel. It was ridiculous. None of us could decide which way led back to camp.

"Left walls are mean," Tyson said. "Which way now?"

Anthony swept his flashlight beam over the archways of the eight tunnels. As far as I could tell, they were identical. "That way," he said.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Deductive reasoning."

"So...you're guessing."

"Just come on," he said.

The tunnel he'd chosen narrowed quickly. The walls turned to gray cement, and the ceiling got so low that pretty soon we were hunching over. Tyson was forced to crawl.

Gretel's hyperventilating was the loudest noise in the maze. "I can't stand it anymore," she whispered. "Are we there yet?"

"We've been down here maybe five minutes," Anthony told her.

"It's been longer than that," Gretel insisted. "And why would Pan be down here? This is the opposite of the wild!"

We kept shuffling forward. Just when I was sure the tunnel would get so narrow it would squish us, it opened into a huge room. I shined my light around the walls and said, "Whoa."

The whole room was covered in mosaic tiles. The pictures were grimy and faded, but I could still make out the colors—red, blue, green, gold. The frieze showed the Olympian gods at a feast. There was my dad, Poseidon, with his trident, holding our grapes for Dionysus to turn into wine. Zeus was partying with satyrs, and Hermes was flying through the air on his winged sandals. The pictures were beautiful, but they weren't very accurate. I'd seen the gods. Dionysus was not that handsome, and Hermes's nose wasn't that big.

In the middle of the room was a three-tiered fountain. It looked like it hadn't held water in a long time.

"What is this place?" I muttered. "It looks—"

"Roman," Anthony said. "Those mosaics are about two thousand years old."

"But how can they be Roman?" I wasn't that great on ancient history, but I was pretty sure the Roman Empire never made it as far as Long Island.

"The Labyrinth is a patchwork," Anthony said. "I told you, it's always expanding, adding pieces. It's the only work of architecture that grows by itself."

"You make it sound like it's alive."

A groaning noise echoed from the tunnel in front of us.

"Let's not talk about it being alive," Gretel whimpered. "Please?"

"Alright," Anthony said. "Forward."

"Down the hall with the bad sounds?" Tyson said. Even he looked nervous.

"Yeah," Anthony said. "The architecture is getting older. That's a good sign. Daedalus's workshop would be in the oldest part."

That made sense. But soon the maze was toying with us—we went fifty feet and the tunnel turned back to cement, with brass pipes running down the sides. The walls were spray-painted with graffiti. A neon tagger sign read MOZ RULZ.

"I'm thinking this is not Roman," I said helpfully.

Anthony took a deep breath, then forged ahead.

Every few feet the tunnels twisted and turned and branched off. The floor beneath us changed from cement to mud to bricks and back again. There was no sense to any of it. We stumbled into a wine cellar—a bunch of dusty bottles in wooden racks—like we were walking through somebody's basement, only there was no exit above us, just more tunnels leading on.

Later the ceiling turned to wooden planks, and I could hear voices above us and the creaking of footsteps, as if we were walking under some kind of bar. It was reassuring to hear people, but then again, we couldn't get to them. We were stuck down here with no way out. Then we found our first skeleton.

He was dressed in white clothes, like some kind of uniform. A wooden crate of glass bottles sat next to him.

"A milkman," Anthony said.

"What?" I asked.

"They used to deliver milk."

"Yeah, I know what they are, but...that was when my mom was little, like a million years ago. What's he doing here?"

"Some people wander in by mistake," Anthony said. "Some come exploring on purpose and never make it back. A long time ago, the Cretans even sent people in here as human sacrifices."

Gretel gulped. "He's been down here a long time." He pointed to the skeleton's bottles, which coated with white dust. The skeleton's fingers were clawing at the brick wall, like he had died trying to get out.

"Only bones," Tyson said. "Don't worry, wood girl. The milkman is dead."

"The milkman doesn't bother me," Gretel said. "It's the smell. Monsters. Can't you smell it?"

Tyson nodded. "Lots of monsters. But underground smells like that. Monsters and dead milk people."

"Oh, good," Gretel whimpered. "I thought maybe I was wrong."

"We have to get deeper into the maze," Anthony said. "There has to be a way to the center."

He led us to the right, then the left, through a corridor of stainless steel like some kind of air shaft, and we arrived back in the Roman tile room with the fountain.

This time, we weren't alone.

* * *

What I noticed first were his faces. Both of them. They jutted out from either side of his head, staring over his shoulders, so his head was much wider than it should've been, kind of like a hammerhead shark's. Looking straight at him, all I saw were two overlapping ears and mirror-image sideburns.

He was dressed like a New York City doorman: a long black overcoat, shiny shoes, and a black top-hat that somehow managed to stay on his double-wide head.

"Well, Anthony?" said his left face. "Hurry up!"

"Don't mind him," said the right face. "He's terribly rude. Right this way, mister."

Anthony's jaw dropped. "Uh...I don't…"

Tyson frowned. "That funny man has two faces."

"The funny man has ears, you know!" the left face scolded. "Now come along, mister."

"No, no," the right face said. "This way, mister. Talk to _me_ , please."

The two-faced man regarded Anthony as best he could out of the corners of his eyes. It was impossible to look at him straight on without focusing on one side or the other. And suddenly I realized that's what he was asking—he wanted Anthony to choose.

Behind him were two exits, blocked by wooden doors with huge iron locks. They hadn't been there our first time through the room. The two-faced doorman held a silver key, which he kept passing from his left hand to his right hand. I wondered if this was a different room completely, but the frieze of the gods looked exactly the same.

Behind us, the doorway we'd come through had disappeared, replaced by more mosaics. We wouldn't be going back the way we came.

"The exits are closed," Anthony said.

"Duh!" the man's left face said.

"Where do they lead?" he asked.

"One probably leads the way you wish to go," the right face said encouragingly. "The other leads to certain death."

"I—I know who you are," Anthony said.

"Oh, you're a smart one!" The left face sneered. "But do you know which way to choose? I don't have all day."

"Why are you trying to confuse me?" Anthony asked.

The right face smiled. "You're in charge now, my child. All the decisions are on your shoulders. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I—"

"We know you, Anthony," the left face said. "We know what you wrestle with every day. We know your indecision. You will have to make your choice sooner or later. And the choice may kill you."

I didn't know what they were talking about, but it sounded like it was about more than a choice between doors.

The color drained out of Anthony's face. "No...I don't—"

"Leave him alone," I said. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm your best friend," the right face said.

"I'm your worst enemy," the left face said.

"I'm Janus," both faces said in harmony. "God of Doorways. Beginnings. Endings. Choices."

"I'll see you soon enough, Persephone Jackson," said the right face. "Bot for now it's Anthony's turn." He laughed giddily. "Such fun!"

"Shut up!" his left face said. "This is serious. One bad choice can ruin your whole life. It can kill you and all your friends. But no pressure, Anthony. Choose!"

With a sudden chill, I remembered the words of the prophecy: _the child of Athena's final stand_.

"Don't do it," I said.

"I'm afraid he has to," the right face said cheerfully.

Anthony moistened his lips. "I—I choose—"

Before he could point to a door, a brilliant light flooded the room.

Janus raised his hands to either side of his head to cover his eyes. When the light died, a woman was standing at the fountain.

She was tall and graceful with long hair the color of chocolate, braided in plaits with gold ribbons. She wore a simple white dress, but when she moved, the fabric shimmered with colors like oil on water.

"Janus," she said, "are we causing trouble again?"

"N-no, milady!" Janus's right face stammered.

"Yes!" The left face said.

"Shut up!" the right face said.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked.

"Not you, milady! I was talking to myself."

"I see," the lady said. "You know very well your visit is premature. The boy's time has not yet come. So I give _you_ a choice: leave these heroes to me, or I shall turn _you_ into a door and break you down."

"What kind of door?" the left face asked.

"Shut up!" the right face said.

"Because French doors are nice," the left face mused. "Lots of natural light."

"Shut up!" the right face wailed. "Not you, milady! Of course I'll leave. I was just having a bit of fun. Doing my job. Offering choices."

"Causing indecision," the woman corrected. "Now be gone!"

The left face muttered, "Party pooper," then he raised his silver key, inserted it into the air, and disappeared.

The woman turned toward us, and fear closed around my heart. Her eyes shined with power. _Leave these heroes to me_. That didn't sound good. For a second, I almost wished we could've taken our chances with Janus. But then the woman smiled.

"You must be hungry," she said. "Sit with me and talk."

She waved her hand, and the old Roman fountain began to flow. Jets of clear water sprayed into the air. A marble table appeared, laden with platters of sandwiches and pitchers of lemonade.

"Who...who are you?" I asked.

"I am Hera." The woman smiled. "Queen of Heaven."

* * *

I'd seen Hera once before at a Council of the Gods, but I hadn't paid much attention to her. At the time I'd been surrounded by a bunch of other gods who were debating whether or not to kill me.

I didn't remember her looking so normal. Of course, gods are usually twenty feet tell when they're on Olympus, so that makes them look a lot less normal. But now, Hera looked like a regular mom.

She served us sandwiches and poured lemonade.

"Gretel, dear," she said, "use your napkin."

"Yes, ma'am," Gretel said.

"Tyson, you're wasting away. Would you like another peanut butter sandwich?"

Tyson stifled a belch. "Yes, nice lady."

"Queen Hera," Anthony said. "I can't believe it. What are you doing in the Labyrinth?"

Hera smiled. She flicked one finger and all of the dirt on Anthony's hair and grime on his face disappeared.

"I came to see you, naturally," the goddess said.

Gretel and I exchanged nervous looks. Usually when gods come looking for you, it's not out of the goodness of their hearts. It's because they want something.

Still, that didn't keep me from chowing down on turkey-and-Swiss sandwiches and ships and lemonade. I hadn't realized how hungry I was. Tyson was inhaling one peanut butter sandwich, and Gretel was loving the lemonade, made from a fresh lemon fruit.

"I didn't think—" Anthony faltered. "Well, I didn't think you liked heroes."

Hera smiled indulgently. "Because of that little spat I had with Hercules? Honestly, I got so much bad press because of one disagreement."

"Didn't you try to kill him, like, a lot of times?" Anthony asked.

Hera waved her hand dismissively. "Water under the bridge, my child. Besides, he was one of my loving husband's children by _another_ woman. My patience wore thin, I'll admit it. But Zeus and I have had some excellent marriage counseling sessions since then. We've aired our feelings and come to an understanding—especially after that last little incident."

"You mean when he sired Thalia?" I guessed, but immediately wished I hadn't. As soon as I said the name of our friend, the half-blood daughter of Zeus, Hera's eyes turned toward me frostily.

"Perci Jackson, isn't it? One of Poseidon's...children." I got the feeling she was thinking of another word besides _children_. "As I recall, I voted to let you live at the winter solstice. I hope I voted correctly."

She turned back to Anthony with a sunny smile. "At any rate, I certainly bear you no ill will, my boy. I appreciate the difficulty of your quest. Especially when you have troublemakers like Janus to deal with."

Anthony lowered his gaze. "Why was he here? He was driving me crazy?"

"Trying to," Hera agreed. "You must understand, the minor gods like Janus have always been frustrated by the small parts they play in the universe. Some, I fear, have little love of Olympus, and could easily be swayed to support the rise of my father."

"Your father?" I asked. "Oh. Right."

I'd forgotten that Kronos was Hera's dad, too, along with being the father to Zeus, Poseidon, and all the eldest Olympians. I guess that made Kronos my grandfather, but that thought was so weird I put it out of my mind.

"We must watch the minor gods," Hera said. "Janus. Hecate. Morpheus. They give lip service to Olympus, and yet—"

"That's where Dionysus went," I remembered. "He was checking on the minor gods."

"Indeed." Hera stared at the fading mosaics of the Olympians. "You see, in times of trouble, even gods can lose faith. They start putting their trust in the wrong things, petty things. They stop looking at the big picture and start being selfish. But I'm the goddess of marriage, you see. I'm used to perseverance. You have to rise above the squabbling and chaos, and keep believing. You have to always keep your goals in mind."

"What are your goals?" Anthony asked.

She smiled. "To keep my family, the Olympians, together, of course. At the moment, the best way I can do that is by helping you. Zeus does not allow me to interfere much, I am afraid. But once every century or so, for a quest I care deeply about, he allows me to grant a wish."

"A wish?"

"Before you ask it, let me give you some advice, which I can do for free. I know you seek Daedalus. His Labyrinth is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. But if you want to know his fate, I would visit my son Hephaestus at his forge. Daedalus was a great inventor, a mortal after Hephaestus's heart. There has never been a mortal Hephaestus admired more. If anyone would have kept up with Daedalus and could tell you his fate, it is Hephaestus."

"But how do we get there?" Anthony asked. "That's my wish. I want a way to navigate the Labyrinth."

Hera looked disappointed. "So be it. You wish for something, however, that you have already been given."

"I don't understand."

"The means is already within your grasp." She looked at me. "Perci knows the answer."

"I do?"

"But that's not fair," Anthony said. "You're not telling us what it is!"

Hera shook her head. "Getting something and having the wits to use it...those are two different things. I'm sure your mother Athena would agree."

The room rumbled like distant thunder. Hera stood. "That would be my cue. Zeus grows impatient. Think on what I have said, Anthony. Seek out Hephaestus. You will have to pass through the ranch, I imagine. But keep going. And use all the means at your disposal, however common they may seem."

She pointed toward the two doors and they melted away, revealing twin corridors, open and dark. "One last thing, Anthony. I have postponed your day of choice. I have not prevented it. Soon, as Janus said, you _will_ have to make a decision. Farewell!"

She waved a hand and turned into white smoke. So did the food, just as Tyson chomped down on a sandwich that turned to mist in his mouth. The fountain trickled to a stop. The mosaic walls dimmed and turned grungy and faded again. The room was no longer any place you'd want to have a picnic.

Anthony stamped his foot. "What sort of help was that? 'Here, have a sandwich. Make a wish. Oops, I can't help you!' Poof!"

"Poof," Tyson agreed sadly, looking at his empty plate.

"Well," Gretel sighed, "she said Perci knows the answer. That's something."

They all looked at me.

"But I don't," I said. "I don't know what she was talking about."

Anthony sighed. "Alright. Then we'll just keep going."

"Which way?" I asked. I really wanted to ask what Hera had meant—about the choice Anthony needed to make. But then Gretel and Tyson both tensed. They stood up together, like they'd rehearsed it. "Left," they both said.

Anthony frowned. "How can you be sure?"

"Because something is coming from the right," Gretel said.

"Something big," Tyson agreed. "In a hurry."

"Left is sounding pretty good," I decided. Together we plunged into the dark corridor.


End file.
